


COLLECTION: Work

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Series: The Oneshots Collection [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, please check tags for each individual story!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: A collection of request fills. You can find my info and form on Tumblr!Includes:-Easy, Tiger. [Pts. 1-3]-Head Rush [Pts. 1-2]





	1. Merge

**Author's Note:**

> **Merge**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,556 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance meets Keith by rear-ending him. What he doesn’t expect is to gain him as a fuck buddy. What he really doesn’t expect is to fall in love with him.  
>  **Additional Tags:** background pot use, friends with benefits  
>  _🍂 for @thefaultinourstans’s super fun request! thank you! :D 🍂_

When their paths cross, they  _crash._

Literally.

Lance is coasting down the side street, chill tunes playing and eyes to the changing leaves of the forest around him and it’s all so nice and relaxing that he doesn’t even see the car idling in front of him until it’s practically crashing through his windshield and into his lap and-

That’s-…

Okay, so that may be overplaying it a little. There’s barely even a dent in his fender when he steps out to see the damage with a sinking sense of dread in his wallet. But the adrenaline is still pumping through his veins. And the leaves are still falling - dancing in the breeze that cools his sweaty brow. And-

“Fuck, seriously?”

The slam of the car door ahead of him has Lance’s attention fixing on the guy who’s appeared from it, the frown on his face not exactly pointing them in the right direction.

Fuck. Please don’t let him be a gigantic asshole.

“Doesn’t look that bad.” Lance is just gonna try to ease them through this. “My buddy can probably buff it out for cheap.”

His offer lingers in the air as the guy in front of him seems to assess the damage for himself - the very very  _slight_ scratches that Lance’s license plate left in his bumper.  _Accidentally,_ of course.

That’s apparently not considered by both parties however, judging by the huff - “Seriously though - you don’t know how to drive?” - those eyes coming up to lock onto Lance’s and  _whoa_  - what uh-… …how’re they so pretty even with that aggravation swirling around in them…?

Lance blinks. Pushes down the little flit of interest in his chest to answer with his own aggravation because  _excuse him?_  “Me?  _You’re_  the one who’s stopped in the middle of the freakin’ road, dude.”

“I was waiting.”

“For  _what?”_

“The turtle.”

Lance narrows his eyes. Tries to comprehend. Gets more time than he needs as the guy turns his back to him to make his way towards the front of his car, boots crunching the loose gravel beneath them.

But at least it gets those eyes off of him. At least Lance can take the second to regroup. Run a hand through his bangs and get his hair sorted. Try to come up with some sort of game-plan. Watch with budding curiosity as the guy crouches, black jeans snug around his thighs and damn okay, that’s a really nice ass, alright.

Maybe he should be getting his number for more than just insurance purposes.

The crunching of more loose gravel has Lance snapping back to it, eyes lifting to where something small and dark green is being carried across the road to the other side of the forest.

And shit, he kinda wants to see the turtle - hang on - he’s just gonna…

His presence doesn’t seem to startle this guy either way as he jogs up to him, peering into his cupped hands to get a closer look.

“So this’s the lil’ motherfucker…” Lance murmurs, two black eyes beating up at him just as those bigger, prettier ones lift up to do the same. It’s those that drive the words out of Lance’s mouth. Perhaps out of place. “What’s your name?”

Definitely out of place because it has them flicking away and then back again. “Why.”

Why? Lance wants to look back down at where the turtle continues its free ride, but he also can’t find it in himself to break away from the pull of his gaze. “…‘cuz…?”

They take him in. Lance’s face. The collar of his jacket. The buttons he’s got pinned there. Back up to his eyes.

And then he starts walking again.

“Keith.”

Lance watches after him, not strong enough to resist taking another peek at that ass as he bends down to set the turtle free. “I’m Lance.”

“Great.”

A car zooms by. Has Lance stepping closer. Maybe too close as Keith stands, wiping his hands off on his jacket and turning with a surprised eyebrow raise at the close proximity.

“Anyway - I’m gonna give you my number so I can text you.”

“Text me… …what…”

“My buddy’s shop info in case you wanna buff those scratches out.” It wouldn’t take long. Besides, Lance has more important reasons, his voice dropping a little when he says it. “And y’know… For when we wanna meet up later.”

The way his lips curl in a small smirk makes his meaning perfectly clear, even for someone like Keith. And if Lance is reading him right, that little up-down he gives him again is definitely in consideration - one more check of the goods.

And when he reaches into his pocket, he doesn’t say anything, but his phone is opened to the New Contact screen when it’s handed to Lance - an answer all in itself - and he’s back in his car and driving away when Lance pulls his own phone out to read the message he’s received - a new number.

_learn to drive_

It’s how they meet. How their paths collide. How Lance finds himself in the backseat of his clean, undented car, those eyes still staring up at him but they’re heavy now - glossy now - pupils wide and it could be from the pot or the closeness or the way Lance buries his cock in him, filling him up as deeply as possible and rocking his hips to stroke against his walls.

It’s how Keith likes it when they’re like this. That was quick to figure out - when the music is nice and low and flowing around them, pulling Lance’s hips into a slow, lazy trance.

He has to admit he’s a fan of it too. There’s something to be said about the quick meetups. The pull over and slip into the back and fuck before going their separate ways. But these hookups aren’t like that. These hookups are slow. Easy. Called on unrushed weekend afternoons when they both have nowhere else to be - no one else to spend time with - nothing else to do but take a few relaxed hits and then make out until hands touch lower.

It’s when those eyes drink Lance in the most. It’s when they swallow him up, taking in as much of him as they can, pouring deeply until Lance’s chest feels like it’s going to tip over from it - overwhelmingly full with-…with… _something…_

He moves with the feeling, familiar with it now, the fingers in the back of his hair tightening as he fucks into Keith with a little more purpose. Because if he hits the right spot then Keith’s lashes flutter closed and those eyes give him a chance to breathe. A chance to enjoy without having to worry about that full rush in his chest - without wondering if Keith’s chest is rushing too.

The fall breeze slips in through the cracked windows right as he feels the slow pull down, Keith’s mouth waiting for him. It’s needy in a lazy way. Wants Lance but demands it quietly. Just like everything else. Quiet. Heavy but guarded. Impossible to ignore but not exactly easy to decipher sometimes.

Now is not one of those times.

_“Mm…”_

Those hands slip from Lance’s hair to his neck, pulling him closer, bringing him in.

Lance lets it fill him up and relishes it but wants to get closer after all this time. Wants to merge. Wants to chip away and get in deep and share the rush in his chest with Keith and  _please, let there be a rush in Keith’s chest too. They could do it together. They could share it. They could stay on course and drive the same path and fuck, Lance just-_

“I really like you…” It slips through - murmured against Keith’s lips and they’re both still moving but it feels so fucking good to say - a different rush - a better rush. “I-…I really like you, Keith…” It surges - presses in close - has everything flooding together and- “I think…I’m falling in love with you…”

Keith’s lips still against him…

Pursed but tentative…

Processing…

Lance’s heart is beating a trillion miles a second in his chest but it’s padded with the heavy fullness and he’s not sorry. He’s not regretful. He’s not embarrassed to have said it because he’s pretty sure there was a small part of him already in love with this boy the very moment he saw him carry that turtle over to the other side of the road.

So he’s not sorry. And he’s not regretful. And he’s not embarrassed but he  _is_  about to have a heart attack right here in the back of his car if Keith doesn’t fucking say something either way.

So.

“Keith…”

He’s looking up at him again. Pretty eyes in the afternoon sun. Beaded sweat glistening on his brow. Hands slowly easing up Lance’s neck to cradle his face and bring him down again - only this time it’s gentle. This time, it’s sweet in a way where Lance can feel the rush coming from the other side. Identical. Overwhelming.

Shared.

Lance lets his eyes close in relief…

Lets his hands card through Keith’s hair.

Lets his hips start to sway again, the leaves dancing in the cool autumn breeze around them as their paths meet up flush.

As they merge.

As they collide, two roads joining to ride off together to the same destination.

 

* * *

 


	2. Head Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Head Rush**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,441 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance gets high and masturbates while thinking about his first time with Keith. Who is oblivious about his feelings. And currently on the other end of the phone.  
>  **Additional Tags:** weed use, keith is cute but has no idea  
>  _✨for @pink-hair-revolution’s request that was so fun to write that i couldn’t stop myself whoops ✨_

It’s a hazy Sunday night.

A Sunday night that could easily turn into some Sunday Scaries if he isn’t careful. If he doesn’t take certain measures. But he’s practiced, now.

The crackle of the rolling paper catching fire as Lance takes a pull is tried and true. As is the burn in his lungs. As is the mist floating around and snuggling up close to his brain. There’s no room for the Sunday Scaries when his brain is being spooned by Mother Mary like this. Only peace. And fleeting thoughts. And heavy blinks.

Lance purses his lips to blow the stream of smoke out his open bedroom window, the cloud dissolving into the night with the rest of them.

The joint sits at the ready right where he left it on the sill - catches the wind that pulls another wispy line from the burning tip - will be there diligently, waiting with no pressure as Lance collapses back onto his bed, his hands cupped behind his head.

He stares up at the ceiling. At it lolling to the side before a blink brings it back. Smiles, unaware until his face hurts, as he remembers the line.

‘My fuckin’ eyes are a typewriter…’

It’s Keith who had said it. Just right here, actually. Stretched out on his back just as Lance is now, his eyes watching the shifting ceiling and blinking to get it back.

Lance huffs a laugh to himself, alone now.

That shit was so funny.

‘What are you, an alt-j song?’ he had teased him immediately - just jumped  _right onto_ that shit. It’s what started the creative process - what imbued them with the power of music and had them making up sloppy, ridiculously vague lyrics, eyelids heavy as they laughed at each other, faces so close on the pillow.

Lance really wanted to kiss him that night. Really wanted to  _fuck him_ , let’s be honest - but they’re friends and he’s not sure where Keith is with all that and he  _really wanted to touch him_ but he didn’t. And he doesn’t know if he regrets it or not. And… …yeah.

Lance sighs, rolling his head away from the empty space on the pillow next to him to stare back up at the ceiling with a lazy blink.

What would that even be like…?

Them fucking…

He’s thought about it an embarrassing amount of times already but what-… What would it  _actually_ be like…?

Would Keith be shy? Drawn into himself? He might be at first, but Lance could definitely kiss it out of him. He could let Keith chill under him and get accustomed and Lance could lead the making out unless-…

Unless Keith  _wouldn’t_ be shy. Unless he’d be all super serious and intense like he is sometimes with certain stuff. Intense enough to wanna be the one controlling things - to be the one on top - the one who’s leading with his tongue and feeling Lance up and dragging his pants down and-

Lance swallows.

Takes half a second because  _damn._ Okay, both those scenarios are good but that last one… That last one’s definitely got him feeling some type of way.

The ceiling shifts and Lance drops a hand to his sweatpants, fingers tracing over his lap.

If Keith was gonna be all super serious and intense the first time they fucked, then he’d definitely wanna top. There’s no convincing him when he gets like that about things. But Lance sure as hell wouldn’t complain. He’d absolutely bottom for Keith. Suck him off and then bounce on his cock a little. Let him fill him up.

Lance’s eyes flutter closed, his hand dipping under the waistband of his sweats at the thought.

Because Keith probably has such a pretty cock. The rest of him is pretty so it’d only make sense for him to have a pretty cock too, right?

Right, Lance thinks, hand beginning to stroke himself.

And listen, if he’s gonna do this, he might as well do it the right way.

The mattress creaks as he sits up, bending over to take a quick hit and keeping it in his lungs as he reaches under his bed to pull out the box he wants. His lube and dildo shine out at him like a beacon as he lifts the lid, lips pressed tight to keep the smoke in as he takes them out and sets them on the bed.

The single band of smoke is still dancing from the tip of the joint when he leans back toward the window to finally blow out - more clouds for the night sky.

But Lance is just interested in getting back - in easing out of his sweatpants - in getting a finger nice and lubed up and teasing at himself, eyes closing to get those images to replay for him.

Most specifically, the one where Keith’s letting Lance bounce on his cock. That’s the good one. That’s the one that has interested heat curling in Lance’s stomach as he imagines Keith’s eyes watching him. Enjoying it. Quietly planning how he’s going to flip Lance over and fuck him into the mattress.

It’s not long until two fingers feel like heaven inside him, Lance’s eyes opening because the pot is making him a little too dizzy to not have his bearings. Plus he wants to look - wants to let his gaze trail over his wall of pictures until it lands on one with those eyes staring back at him.

They were at…an apple orchard? He thinks? Doesn’t matter though - they were high as fuck and Keith was uncharacteristically touchy and it’s one of Lance’s favorite pictures of them ever. So maybe he shouldn’t be fingering himself to it. But oh well, what’s done is–

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

Lance frowns, unsure of where the vibration is coming until his phone slides against his knee, screen almost as bright as the fairy lights in his dark bedroom when he glances down to see who could possibly be c-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Lance stalls, vision freezing as he tries to get his hazy brain to function. He should…answer that. He should stop fingering himself and answer that shouldn’t-

“Hey man.”

He swears to god he just lost some time. Swears he meant to pull his fingers out, whoops. So why are they still inside him pumping away as Keith’s voice filters in through his phone?

_“I have a person question for you.”_

Lance’s heart immediately drops at the sound of it - his voice - a little scratchy from being tired. It’s hot without trying to be - he’s not gonna lie. But no, he has to focus. Because this is a ‘person question’. A ‘this happened to me, Lance, and I don’t understand people so tell me what it means’ question.

It’s fine - he can do it. He can slow his fingers down a little and concentrate. He just needs to school his voice. “Lay it on me.” Nice.

_“What’s ‘you can sleep in my room’ mean.”_

Lance swallows, brows knitting together a little. “Wha-… Who said that to you?”

 _“That guy at Hunk’s last night.”_  There’s a moment of silence between them - unspoken - and then Keith’s switching lanes.  _“What’s the matter with you?”_

It’s a quick shift and it throws Lance off, fingers stalling inside of him for a moment because, “What uh-… Whadaya mean?”

_“I dunno - you sound weird.”_

Fuck. Okay apparently he’s not nailing this as much as he thought he was. “Oh.” Think. “Sorry yeah just…” - Lie. - “…finishing up my workout.”

The way he tries to even his breath after it is almost suffocating. Has his lungs hurting.

But it must be convincing enough because Keith is mumbling something - most likely writing it off as Lance Weirdness. And then he’s back on track.  _“So what’s that mean, though.”_

Lance holds the phone away from himself to let out the air fighting from his lungs. It throws him into a head rush. Has him pulling out to use his other hand to steady himself on his bed. Forces him to take a second before finally giving Keith an answer.

“Means he wanted to sleep with you, dude.”

There’s even more time to collect himself because the silence that comes from Keith’s end is long and pondering, eventually leading to a thoughtful but not satisfied, _“Oh.”_

Lance can hear it. Even with his pulse heavy in his ears like this as he dares to drag a hand over his lap again. “What, you didn’t like him?”

_“No.”_

“Not even enough to just hook up?”

He shouldn’t be but he starts up a hesitant rhythm, pleasure pooling deep in his belly as he waits for Keith’s just as hesitant answer.

 _“I dunno.”_  Not shy, just… Thinking…  _“I didn’t really know him.”_

Lance’s huff of a laugh comes out more heated than it should. “Don’t gotta know people to sleep with ‘em, man.”

 _“I know.”_   His end is so quiet. The way it should be. Lance doesn’t even wanna know how breathy he sounds on his end. But you know. Working out.  _“I don’t think I wanna fuck someone if I don’t know them, though…”_

That sparks a certain little tingle in Lance’s lap - the thought - shit, Keith just  _saying_ the word fuck. It has him picking up the pace, hand starting to stroke a little faster.

“That’s fine man, that’s-… That’s a good thing…”

_“It is?”_

“Yeah… Friends know what friends want, right…?” Damn, Lance could definitely figure out what Keith wants and give it to him - hand it to him on a silver fucking platter. “What uh… What… _do_ you want…exactly…”

He can hear the frown of confusion from here.  _“What do you mean.”_

“I mean like-…” Oh, this is dangerous. He shouldn’t do this. “How would you want your first time with someone to be…?”

Fuck, he definitely shouldn’t. But he did. He just did. And the little mumble of thought that dances its way from Keith’s lips to Lance’s ear has another tingle sparking - has Lance reaching for the dildo.

_“…I dunno…?”_

Has him situating on the floor so he can stick it nice and securely and line himself up. “It’s cool dude, you can tell me.” Shit, please just tell him.

 _“I… Uh…”_ It’s not discomfort. They’ve known each other way too long now to have any lingering discomfort between them. It’s just honest to god uncertainty.

And Lance can help.

“Would you wanna top?” Please, wanna top.

 _“I… I guess…?”_  Oh yes, bless up.  _“Yeah, I’d probably top.”_

It’s all Lance wants, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down onto the dildo waiting for him - filling him up - his mouth dropping but not daring to let any noise out.

Because  _fuck yes…_

_“I’d probably be an okay top, right?”_

“Oh…” Lance clears his throat, that coming out way too needy, “You’d be a  _great_ top, dude.”

_“Really?”_

“Yeah. With that c-…” he bites the word back - almost too close “-…cocky shit you pull all the time.”

Wow, by the skin of his teeth…

_“When the hell am I ever cocky…”_

Lance swallows thickly, hips starting to work as he fucks himself on what he can only pretend is Keith. And really, he’s never been all that cocky. It’s just what slipped out instead of-

_“Lance.”_

_Ohhh_ -ho-ho fuck, he’s gonna have to not say his name like that if he knows what’s good for him. “Yeah-…” holy shit… “Yeah dude, just like… I dunno…”

Solid.  _Wow_ , so solid.

 _Wow_ , he wishes he was fucking Keith right now.

_“Do you really have to work out while we talk about this?”_

Oh god, he needs to calm the fuck down, apparently. “Sorry - I’m almost done.” Haha, that’s a joke that only he gets. “Just keep going.”

_“I don’t-… I don’t know what you want me to say.”_

He wants him to say that he’s gonna come over and fuck him, that’s what Lance wants him to fucking say. “You’re topping.” Focus. “Sweet and slow or fast and rough?”

Okay, this is getting kinda weird, but Lance’s dick is definitely into it, a shiver running up his spine as he drops a hand to touch himself, the other holding the phone close to his ear when Keith says it.

_“It would…depend on the person, wouldn’t it?”_

Good point. “True.” Good fucking point. “Um…” They’re gonna get through this. “What about a friend who uh-… Who you vibe really well with… And like… Laugh with all the time…”

Him. What about  _him_ , is what he’s asking.

 _“Uh…”_  Come on, Keith, just give him a little more to work with. He’s already feeling it come close. _“I guess it’d probably start slow but then get rough?”_

The corner of Lance’s mouth crooks with satisfaction. “Yeah?”

_“Yeah, because like-… I dunno exactly, but I just feel like that’s how I’d do it.”_

Lance smiles, “That’d be fucking great,” wets his lips as he tilts his head back and chases after the feeling with his hips. “That’s a great way to do it.”

And what Keith says next, Lance will admit, is what finally does him in, even if Keith doesn’t realize what he’s done.  _“What…you like that…?”_

It’s innocent and honest and there’s zero intention behind it but it tips Lance over like a fucking dream, his hand scrambling up to cover the mouthpiece on his phone as his hips stutter against the full feeling and he cums, Keith’s face across his eyelids - Keith’s voice in his ear - Keith’s cock, he  _fucking wishes,_  buried deep inside him.

_“…-ance…”_

_“…Lance…”_

_“…hello?”_

He can’t answer. Has to ride the last waves of his orgasm and calm the fuck down and try try try to even out his heavy breath.

But fuck, was that good.

_“…um… Alright, I dunno if your phone’s fucking up again but I guess I’ll call you back or something.”_

The click of the disconnection sounds in Lance’s ear and he gives up, eyes still closed as he lets his arm drop to his side, his phone clattering to the floor.

Fuck…

That…was…

Wow, that was hot.

Lance wets his lips, both hands running down his face to get himself together. He’s gonna have to clean his floor, but he’ll worry about that later. For now, he just has to focus on deciding if he wants to ease up or stay filled for a couple more minutes. Has to focus on getting his pulse back down to a reasonable pace.

Has to focus on the vibration at his knee again, Keith’s face popping up and setting it all back into motion again.

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

 

* * *

 


	3. That's Rough, Buddy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **That’s Rough, Buddy.**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,384 words  
>  **Summary:** “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” Lance gets mad when a cadet disrespects Keith due to his Galra blood. The only thing Keith cares about is how attractive Lance is like that.  
>  **Additional Tags:** established relationship, post season 7, rough sex  
>  _💫 for @luckycereal‘s request! thank you! :D 💫_

It’s happening again, but Keith is used to it.

He’s used to the skeptical glances. And the judging. He kind of thought all of that would be a little _less,_  since he’s definitely not the only person on Earth now who’s not entirely human, but…

The cadet doesn’t see it that way. “I mean why are we listening to him anyway?” Only sees what she wants to see. “He’s part Galra.”

It’s just supposed to be a training exercise. Just supposed to be quick and inspiring for the small group of younger students, per Shiro’s order. But now the rest of the cadets are staring - a couple considering - most just honestly wanting to get back to the excitement of training with two paladins of Voltron. And Keith doesn’t even really want to be here in the first place, so…

“Blind ignorance is one of the easiest ways to set yourself back, cadet,” he drones - bored of the recurring argument.

But it’s new for this student. Makes her feel powerful. Keith’s way too familiar with the rush from questioning a higher authority - he can see it coursing through her as she stands here in front of him, fists clenched. “Blind? How the hell is it blind? Your people attacked our fucking planet. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“So then you also saw the Galra who fought beside us as our allies.”

That stalls her. For just a moment. A hiccup of time - but Keith’s more focused on the energy radiating from behind him - pent up in an attempt to stay level-headed. Because Keith may be used to this. But Lance?

“A few  _okay_ Galra don’t make up for an entire race trying to destroy us.” Her words cut, but not where she wants them to - not  _who_ she wants them to cut. And it’s only a matter of time - Keith can feel it cresting behind him. “You did what you were told to do, now get off our planet. No one wants you here, murderer-”

“That’s enough!”

Keith’s heart sinks in his chest at the sound of it - of Lance boiling over. He doesn’t hear it often, but when he does…

The cadet stays firm on Lance’s approach, but Keith can see the exact moment the look of  _oh shit_  flashes in her eyes - the exact moment she realizes she’s fucked up.

And Lance isn’t backing down. “How dare you!” He’s loud but clipped with his words. “I mean do you even  _realize_ who you’re talking to? What he did for your ignorant ass?”

Keith remains silent. Watches. Doesn’t try to stop him or calm him down or any of that shit because  _honestly…_  When Lance  _gets like this…_

“If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even  _be_ here right now.” The finger he points is steely but doesn’t touch her. “He’s an insanely good pilot and the best goddamn leader in the universe and the kind of person you could only  _hope_ to be like one day. Do you understand?”

The student nods, not daring to push it.

But that’s not gonna fly for Lance. “I said do you  _understand, cadet.”_

“Y-… Yes, sir.”

“Good.” It’s stern and sends an undeniable ripple of warmth through Keith as he watches it unfold in front of him. “Don’t forget it.”

And then Lance is turning, crisp steps carrying him to the door that slides open for him. And then he’s gone.

Keith looks back to the cadets…

Lets the echo of the door sliding shut fade before saying it…

“Dismissed.”

 

\- - -

 

Lance is  _fuming_ when Keith finds him in their room. He’s set up a pace for himself, wearing a track in the metal floor with his steps. 

“It doesn’t bother me anymore, you know.”

Lance doesn’t even look at him. “I know.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“Kinda need you to fuck me now though since you did.”

That gets him. Gets those eyes on him. Keith knew it would. “What?”

And Keith doesn’t want to watch anymore. He’s done enough watching. Enough hungry waiting. It’s what makes his heart race faster as he saunters up to where Lance is still frowning, hands on his hips as Keith laces his up around his neck, grin mischievous when he brings it in close.

“You’re  _so fucking hot_  when you’re mad.”

Lance doesn’t kiss him back at first - is processing - clearly - but it’s only a matter of time before-

The pressure against Keith’s lips swallows him up - presses him back - firm hands on his waist until his back collides with the wall behind him and those hands are tugging up his shirt.

And  _fuck yes, Lance is gonna play ball._

“So hot…” Keith confirms, amused at the teeth nipping at his neck - at the fingers unbuttoning his pants. “God, I love when you get like this…”

Not that he’s mad.

Not that Lance is upset.

Just…that he’s riled up and heavy-handed and physically carrying Keith over to the bed, Keith now completely naked in Lance’s fully clothed arms - bare skin against Garrison patches and buttons and zippers and-

Keith lands on the mattress roughly. Lives for it. Reaches into the drawer for the lube and starts to get himself ready as Lance towers over him at the foot of the bed, sizing him up as he slowly unbuttons his jacket.

“You gonna fuck me, Lance?” he eggs him on, loving the feeling of those eyes on him as he stretches himself open. “Gonna show me how serious you are?”

The Garrison jacket hits the floor. So does Lance’s belt. And his pants. And fuck, he’s definitely riled up and Keith wants that cock in him  _right now._

“C’mere,” Lance orders, hands gripping into Keith’s hair the very second Keith wraps his lips around him and starts to suck him off.

He lets out a groan, hips rocking to fuck his face and it all goes straight to Keith’s dick so quickly that he has to stop stretching himself - has to focus on Lance’s fingers gripping his hair and how hot and heavy his cock is as it slides in and out of his mouth and fuck-

“Turn around.”

Keith complies happily. Pops his ass out for him. Makes sure to arch his back a little but it doesn’t matter. Because those hands are grabbing his hips and pulling him backwards on the bed and  _wow,_  sometimes Keith forgets how strong Lance actually is.

“Fuck, babe,” Keith breathes out, trying not to tense in anticipation. He just really loves those hands and that cock and  _Lance_  - just  _all of Lance._  And when he sinks inside of him, it’s like bliss, the sting fueling Keith to press back into it - get more - stretch tighter.

And Lance is completely for it.

The headboard slams into the wall as Lance snaps his hips nice and roughly, Keith’s bangs falling into his eyes and arms collapsing out from under him. But it’s good. It’s so fucking good. Keith eats that shit up and follows the hands that pull him up and slots his back against Lance’s chest like he wants him to. Sucks on the fingers Lance push past his lips. Can’t help the way he moans as Lance fucks him and wraps his other arm around his middle and presses his fingers down on the flat of his tongue until Keith’s mouth opens wide.

“You like that?” he speaks into Keith’s ear, voice all low and gravely and  _fuuuuuck-_

He has to nod. Can’t say anything with the fingers holding down his tongue. Can’t do anything but nod and drool and listen to Lance groan in his ear, hips pitching deep and desperate enough that Keith knows it’s coming - chases after it too - grabs with both hands at the arm holding him still around his middle as Lance forces his orgasm out of him, voice strangled and unable to be covered and  _yes, yes yes yes Lance is coming inside him - he can feel it._

It’s all instantaneous and aching and perfect and Keith swears to god he blacks out a little from it.

But it’s worth it.

And he loves the ache.

And he knows they’re just getting started.

 

* * *

 


	4. Knowns and Unknowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Knowns and Unknowns**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,647 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance has a dream that Keith doesn’t make it through the final battle and goes to his hospital room late at night seeking confirmation and comfort.  
>  **Additional Tags:** post season 7, emotional sex, emotional everything, lance cries, they’re emotionally attached but haven’t actually sat down and discussed it  
>  _💫 for @goplayintrafficxox’s request. thanks for the emotions lmao 💫_

When he jolts awake, his pillowcase is wet…

Eyes are wet…

Cheeks are wet…

And there’s someone grabbing past his rib cage with both hands and tugging like their life depends on it. Like in the dream. Like Keith-…had…

They were back. They were living it. They were thrown into the chaos and the screaming and the-…

They were back for a second time. Another round. Knew they’d already done it and gotten out with their lives and  _went back to do it again._  But this time…

Lance doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s dark in his hospital room as he lies here for too long. Because if he lies here and floods his brain with other things - other things, something, _anything_  - then maybe he can shake the look in those eyes as the light goes out behind them. Maybe he won’t see them when he closes his. When he distracts himself. When he realizes this too is a losing battle and has to resort to walking himself through the  _knowns._

Everyone is alive.

Everyone is here.

Everyone is okay.

Keith is-…

Lance still doesn’t know what time it is but it’s dark in his hospital room. Dark in the hallway. Dark from the ceiling to the tile floor under his bare feet but they take him where he needs to go. Because walking himself through the knowns isn’t doing him any good. He knows  _himself_. Knows his heart. Knows he won’t be satisfied until he sees it with his own eyes - until he sees…

…him…

The lamp is switched low at Keith’s bedside when he peeks in through the window. It casts a warm glow…ebbing outward…almost as if it’s coming from the boy himself as he sits there, bangs fallen over his eyes as he focuses on the book in his lap.

Lance steadies himself, afraid that the hands under his rib cage are able to squeeze tighter. He wouldn’t be able to breathe. Wouldn’t be able to take this long, steady breath that comes out more shaky than it should. Because it was just a dream. It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

And now he sees him and he’s fine and everything is okay and he can go back to sleep. He doesn’t have to stay. He doesn’t have to talk to him. He doesn’t have to touch… Just to make… Absolutely sure…

He doesn’t have to. It’s a known. But Lance knows himself and knows his heart and knows he won’t be satisfied until he does.

When those eyes flick up to him as he eases quietly through the door, it’s a punch to the gut - the split-second distrust there - the unease - the distinct flash of _resist - fight - defend_  that the war has left in them, no matter who may be on the other end.

It hurts. Even when it disappears immediately upon seeing that it’s Lance sneaking into his room. But they’ve all come away with their own… _things_ … And the way Keith’s gaze softens into something frighteningly tender is already pulling at the needy strings in his chest. Especially when he says it, voice hushed and gravely from not being used.

“…you okay?”

Lance’s fingers slip together and around as he stands at the door, unable to move. Because if he moves, he gets closer. If he gets closer, he won’t be able to stop himself from touching. And what if-… What if when he touches…Keith dissolves out from under him?

Like he did in his brain…

“Lance…?”

What would he do then? If the known wasn’t actually a known. If the dream wasn’t actually a dream.

If there actually wasn’t any distinction between the two and Keith really did slip from his fingers like-

“Lance…” so soft… “…c’mere…”

The room is so quiet that he can hear his own pulse in his ears. And how loud his swallow is. And the little voices in the back of his head that are urging him to  _go - go…touch…make absolutely sure…_

The gauze wrapped around Keith’s forehead is like a headband - is exactly the way it was before Lance had gone to sleep - is exactly the way it should be. Which means…if it’s the way it should be…then Keith is how he should be…and he won’t dissolve under his fingers if he just…reaches out…right…?

Time halts uncomfortably as Lance gives a hesitant trace of his fingertip to Keith’s cheek… Feels Keith’s skin… Warmth spreading slowly as he stays very much beneath his touch.

He’s real.

He’s a known.

He’s-… He’s okay…

“Why’re you being so weird…” It could be a joke, but the lack of even the slightest hint of playfulness leaves it as what it truly is… Concern…

Only Lance can’t find it in himself to worry about it now, because he’s too lost in the warmth as he spreads his fingers to cup both sides of Keith’s face. And suddenly it’s not enough - never was enough in the first place - has him pulling the sheets up and slipping in next to Keith because Keith’s here now - yes - but  _what if…_

“Don’t-…” he can’t even get it out, arms wrapping around Keith’s middle, “Don’t… _go anywhere_ …okay…?”

It feels like home, but Lance is still heavy. Still has those hands squeezing past his rib cage. Can feel the lump in his throat just from speaking it - getting bigger at the feeling of Keith’s hand coming down to gently rest over the gauze wrapped around Lance’s arm when he says it.

“…hey…” as quiet as ever, “…did something happen?”

Lance desperately wants to look up at him and look into those eyes but also can’t bring himself to show Keith just how shaken up he is. It’s a lose-lose. So he just hugs himself closer.

“I had a dream…”

“A dream…”

“A bad one…” Lance mindlessly tangles his legs with Keith’s under the sheets. Craves closeness. “We were fighting again and you didn’t-…”

Keith must hear the way the lump in Lance’s throat muddles over the rest - makes it impossible to get out - because he lets out a long breath through his nose, and then nudges at Lance’s arm with a soft, “C’mere.”

Lance follows without a word. Bites at his lips to stop the quiver as he climbs into Keith’s lap as directed. Can’t hide his face anymore, Keith’s just inches away from his now as their gazes connect…sink in…sync together…

The hands on his back slide up fondly to pull Lance in close enough to kiss, gentle at first, but Lance doesn’t want gentle. He wants the living daylights kissed out of him. He wants to be forced into understanding that this is real. He wants to feel the lump work further and further up his throat as he chases after Keith’s lips, the corners of his mouth trembling as he comes up for air.

Keith’s arms pull him in flush - as close as close can be - pressing together so tightly that Lance can feel a second heartbeat against his chest - sinking in - syncing together. It’s what distracts him from his hips rocking, lost in the swirl of emotions firing through him.

But Keith doesn’t miss it. He  _meets_ it. Cups Lance’s face and kisses him and rolls his hips up because they’re in sync and if Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say he wasn’t the only one who needed this.

But his brain is muddled.

And he feels like his chest is going to implode on itself.

And the lump in his throat is so thick and so high that when the gasp fumbles from his lips, the sob nearly tumbles out with it.

And it’s not until they’re moving - until fingers dip and brush and move fabric away - it’s not until Keith is sinking inside him that it all tips over, the hands under Lance’s rib cage suffocating him fully and  _fuck…what if Keith was actually dead. What if he really didn’t make it and wasn’t here and left Lance alone after everything they’ve been through and-_

“Lance-…”

The thumbs wiping at his cheeks pause everything - put it all on hold - make it very clear that the most important thing right now is Lance and the lump in his throat finally winning and-

“Don’t stop…” Lance murmurs, eyes closed and brows knit but he continues to move his hips - continues even with the thumbs still wiping away the tears slipping past because-

“You’re-…” Keith’s torn - breathy - concerned, “you’re  _crying…”_

But Lance presses his eyes closed tight, “…don’t stop…” is desperate to see this through, “Please, Keith…”

And he doesn’t even care that he’s showing him this - just how much he needs him in his life - just how lost he’d be without him - because he’s felt it for a long time now. And Keith’s no stranger to it either. And they may not have said it word for word yet, but that doesn’t make it any less true - doesn’t make his chest any less full - doesn’t lift him any less as he leans down to kiss him again, shaky fingers pulling him in.

They sink together and move together and Lance has never fit so well with someone in his entire life. He’s never let himself get to this point - stripped down to his heartbeat - eyes finally opening to take in Keith looking at him…drinking him in…pads of his thumbs stopping the tears pooling. He’s never let himself until now, but it’s more than worth it. Because he knows himself.

And he knows that he needs Keith.

Likes to think Keith needs him.

He chases after the feeling and lets it suffocate him instead. Because when all the  _what ifs_ and the doubt dissolves under his fingertips, Keith will still be there. Will still be  _here._

An unmistakable  _known._


	5. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Routine**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Teen  
>  **Word-count:** 1,543 words  
>  **Summary:** It's all part of the routine. The after-class shower in the locker rooms. Both of them taking their time getting ready in front of the mirror. Keith going on and on about someone in their class. What's not part of the routine though - Lance letting his jealousy get the best of him and accidentally letting some very incriminating things slip about how he feels about Keith.  
>  **Additional Tags:** lance gets all shy and pouty, first kisses, kinkade is mentioned but not dragged don't worry  
>  _✨for @the-jai-walker’s request! ✨_

The steam from their respective after-class showers still clings to the garrison locker room mirror as Lance’s frown stares back at him. 

He knows it’s not a good look, but he really doesn’t have a say in the matter because Keith is doing it  _ again.  _ That... _ thing  _ that he does. 

“Kinkade almost beat my time on the simulator today.”

He says it like he has no recollection of that name coming out of his mouth at least three times already within the five minutes they’ve been standing here at the sinks. He also says it like he doesn’t seem to care that he’s got a toothbrush in his mouth, their towels still wrapped around their waists in the steamy air as they go about their business.

They’re the last ones here. Lance, because he actually cares about taking care of himself. Keith, because-... Well… He’s just slow sometimes. Usually Lance doesn’t care about being alone with him in here, but lately the topic of conversation has been extremely one-sided. One-sided and…annoying.

“He was really close.”

“Mm…” Lance mumbles, not bothering to look at him in the mirror and instead focusing on rubbing the hair gel into his fingers so he can reach up and run them through his damp bangs. 

“Couple seconds, I think.”

“Mm.”

Keith continues to brush his teeth, the crisp mint clashing with the smell of Lance’s hair gel. And look, it’s not that Lance doesn’t like Kinkade. He  _ does.  _ He  _ really  _ likes Kinkade. It’s just…

Call him crazy, but…

“Where’s he from?”

Ugh. Lance shrugs.

“He’s our age, right?”

Another shrug.

A moment of silence. His towel hiking back up around his waist. The plop of toothpaste into the sink as Keith spits. Then: “...maybe Pidge will ask him-”

“Ohhh my  _ god,  _ why don’t you just  _ marry  _ him Keith.”

Lance’s dramatic eye roll and the way he braces himself against the counter must have his irritation finally dawning on Keith, because his eyebrows furrow at the suggestion. “Why would I do  _ that?” _

“Because you’re obviously so fucking in love with him.”

_ “What?” _

That eyebrow furrow is directed solely at Lance now, his eyes locked onto him in guarded confusion through their reflections. 

But oh  _ pleeeease,  _ why  _ else  _ would Keith be so far up this dude’s ass? “It’s fine - whatever - I’m not judging,” Lance insists, flipping the sink handle up and running his slick fingers through the water. Although the little sour ball of energy in his chest is hard to ignore. “You date whoever you want to, man.”

He doesn’t have to look at Keith’s reaction like this. Doesn’t have to note the way Keith’s brain is clearly working overtime in his head over there. “When-...” he’s trying to piece something together. “Wait. Did he say something to you about me?”

“What?” Okay, strike that - Lance is definitely gonna throw him a look. “Dude  _ please,  _ as if he’d ever say anything to  _ anyone-..."   _ ...oh. ...actually… “On second thought, maybe you guys  _ are  _ meant for each other…”

He says it under his breath but Keith obviously hears him. May or may not also hear the little twinge of bitterness that slips with it. Is still thinking, toothbrush held still in his mouth and a little bit of toothpaste at the corner and it really shouldn’t be cute but-

“I don’t like him like that.” His eyes are narrowing. “Kinkade.”

“Oh right - thanks for that - I forgot who we were talking about for a second.”

“Why are you being so shitty?” Keith’s frowning again, toothbrush now perched on the side of the sink. “I just said I  _ don’t  _ like him.”

“Good!” Lance throws his hands up. “That’s totally a huge lie, but good!” 

The air in the locker room shifts as Keith turns to him, full attention. “It’s not a lie.” 

“Sure, Keith.”

“It’s not!”

“Okay.” 

“Lance, I don’t fucking like Kinkade, okay? And he doesn’t like me either.”

“Good, honestly - because it fucking sucks. Liking you is literally the worst.”

“Wow that’s-...” Keith pauses. Oh- “...wait, what?”

“What?”

“What’d you just say?”

He-... 

_ Oh…  _

Oh fuck. 

Lance feigns innocence, pulse growing quick. “What’d I  _ what?” _

But Keith’s not falling for it, his eyebrows all furrowed for a completely different reason now when he asks it again, slower this time. “What did you just say...?”

It’s...not often that Lance’s life flashes before his eyes, but…

Oh boy.

“N-...uh… Nothing - forget it.”

Oh boy he really just fucking did that, didn’t he.

Lance has let some questionable things slip in the past but wow, does this one hop right up into first place. And what’s worse is Keith is just silent now. Just...standing. Just  _ staring…  _

Lance doesn’t even realize he’s frowning until the corners of his mouth start to ache, the silence that stretches between them so thick and heavy that he can feel it clinging to his bare skin.

He needs one of them to talk. To say something.  _ Anything. _

“You...like me…?”

Okay, not that. 

“No.” Lance is quick to scoff but it lands as forced as it truly is. “No I don’t fucking  _ like you  _ \- don’t get your-”

His next words are clipped to make room for the spike in his chest as Keith takes a step forward. Such a simple movement and yet it sets off half a dozen nerves in his body to  _ react react react. _

“What’re you-...” he doesn’t even know what he’s saying - knows damn well that he’s not exactly painting a solid picture of confidence to back up his claims right now, but- “Keith-” another step, toothbrush long forgotten on the counter. “Fuck off - whatever you’re trying to do to fuck with me right-”

Keith’s hand doesn’t even get a chance to land before Lance smacks it away - goes on the defensive - grits his teeth a little and takes a step backwards as Keith’s hand comes back but this time Lance grabs it - grabs his wrist - lets out a little huff of a struggle and grabs the other wrist to hold it still even through Keith’s calculated eye contact but - but now he’s just staring again - and Lance doesn’t realize how close they are until the feeling of Keith’s breath on his face has his nerves spiking again because  _ they’re close - they’re close -  _ and Keith may have his wrists held away but he surges forward just the same - closes the rest of the space - gets in nice and tight and presses his mouth to Lance’s and they’re-

They’re-...

...they’re...

Lance shoves him. Panics and honest to god shoves him away and regrets it immediately because-... Because Keith is stumbling back, shoulders squared a little but eyes never leaving Lance. And Lance knew that shoving him away meant he’d be  _ over there  _ but now that he’s  _ over there  _ he’s not  _ here  _ anymore. He’s not here where Lance’s heart is beating heavily against his rib cage. Where his lips are tingling. He’s... _ over there.  _ Staring. And...

He’s not mad.

He’s not hurt.

He’s…

He’s  _ waiting. _

_... _

Ugh, _ fuck it. _

Lance charges forward, breath rushing from his lungs as he swoops in and slots their mouths together again, eyes squeezed tight. It’s a little painful, but he doesn’t care. Not with the little grunt on impact from Keith. Or the way he kisses back, a little sloppy and exactly how Lance had imagined kissing him would go. 

And oh...the realization that he  _ didn’t  _ blow his chances by shoving him away at first...

Lance pushes - Keith following, surprisingly, letting himself be pushed against the edge of the sink. 

The steam from their showers has cleared by now. But Lance has a feeling it won’t stay that way for long. Especially with how Keith slips his tongue into Lance’s mouth, eyes closed but breath coming fast between them. 

Just like Lance’s. Because holy shit, this is actually happening. Like, in real life. Not in a daydream. He’s actually making out with Keith.  _ Keith,  _ his mouth all minty fresh and hungry against Lance’s.

And as nice as that is, Lance can’t help himself. Can’t help but want more. Can’t help but drag his parted lips along Keith’s sharp jawline, feeling it flex in pleasant reaction under his attention. And if he’s gonna do that, then he  _ has  _ to kiss down the side of his neck - has to lick hotly up the column of his throat - has to graze his teeth over his adam’s apple a little.

“You uh-...” he can hear the smirk on Keith’s lips as he breathes it out, “You sure about not liking me…?”

It’s almost enough to make Lance stop. Kind of. Almost.

Okay, that’s a lie.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, hot breath along the path he’s licked up Keith’s pretty neck. It gets him another one of those pleased leans. Gets him a hitch in that breath. Gets him a hand, firm as it grabs Lance’s ass through his towel.

Yeah, that’s what he thought.

“Who’s room is closer?” Keith says lowly, his other hand joining in on the fun.

And it’d be cute if it wasn’t so hilariously  _ Keith,  _ Lance unable to stifle the little chuckle in the back of his throat as he pulls him away from the counter, “Heh… …‘ _ room’…”  _ and slowly toward the bay of showers waiting for them.

 

* * *

 


	6. Flower Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Flower Crowns**
> 
> **Pairing:** Noctis/Prompto [FFXV]  
>  **Rating:** Teen  
>  **Word-count:** 1,639 words  
>  **Summary:** Noctis makes Prompto a flower crown because he loves him but it's Shitty™ and kind of embarrassing. But it's all gonna work out fine, right?  
>  **Additional Tags:** established relationship
> 
> _🌻 for @gravastellar's request ily fam 🌻_

For better or for worse, in this exact moment of time, Noctis Lucis Caelum is self-aware. 

He  _ knows _ he’s being a Stage 5 Creeper as he crouches here, peering around the rooftop’s ventilation ducts one building away from The Leville, but it’s the only place he can hide out and still see Prompto stepping back into their hotel room through the open balcony doors.

From here, he can see how his hair is still damp from his shower… How he forgoes his vest for a moment more… And most importantly, how his movements stall when he sees it, sitting patiently on his pillow for him. 

Noctis is sweating it a little - he’s not gonna lie. Flower crowns are a lot harder to make than he had assumed going into this. And honestly, with no one around to keep up appearances for (that he knows of, that is), Prompto could just as easily throw the crappy little looping of flowers into the trash. But…

But he’s...not? He’s…

Noctis sits back on his heels, a strange curl of relief unwinding in his chest as his boyfriend plops the crown onto his head with a delighted smile, then turns to the floor-length mirror to pop off a few poses.

He would. Of course he would. Why the hell was Noctis so worried about this?

Prom’s right in the middle of his imaginary duel-pistol action shot when Ignis appears to his left, wordlessly interrupting the show.

But it’s fine. It’s okay. Prompto likes the flower crown. 

That’s all that matters.

Noctis can move on with his life now.

 

\- - -

 

The fountain in front of The Leville is as flush with people listening to the street performers as ever as he waits, no longer achieving that Stage 5 Creeper status now that he’s on firm ground again.

And what’s best is they blessedly don’t have a single damn thing to do today, which means-

“Noct!” 

It’s his split second warning - that, and the two hands clamping onto his shoulders from behind to rub vigorously before-

Noctis loops his arms under Prompto’s thighs as the weight settles around his back, the little grunt more for dramatics than anything. “Hungry?” 

“Starvin’,” he answers, pressing their cheeks together so snugly that Noctis can feel his smile. 

And as much as he likes how toting around his boyfriend piggyback style makes him feel strong (see, Gladio?), food is calling. Luckily, he’s not the only one feeling it, because he gets a quick peck on his cheek and then Prompto hops down off his back. 

“Where you wanna go?”

“Mm,” it’s a shrug Noctis answers with, turning to finally see his smile and the- ... _ oh.  _ He’s wearing it. “Wow.” 

Prompto reaches up, fingers delicately brushing over the light blue flowers circling his hair. “Ya like?”

“Yeah, it looks nice on you.”

“Right? Iris made it.”

“Cool.”

…wait.

_ Wait.  _ Hold on -  _ not  _ cool. What the hell?

“How ‘bout we just hit up th-”

“Iris made it?” He’s trying to keep his tone relaxed. Trying not to sound like he’s pressing when he is, in fact, heavily pressing because once again, what the hell?

“Huh?” It seems to catch Prompto off guard a little - the rehashing of something so simple - but then he smiles again. “Yeah! She must’ve gotten the room key from Gladio or something.”

…

Noctis stares.

Blinks. 

...doesn’t...know what to... _ do... _

“Oh.”

“Yep! So yeah, you wanna go to Tostwell?”

“Uh…” The scattered applause from the people around the street performers kicks him back into gear, even if it’s a bit deflated. “Sure.”

Deflated and… Alright, disappointed, if he’s gonna be completely honest.

But Prompto hops along, slipping their hands together and helping them through the gathering, the tiny blue flowers mocking Noctis as he follows close behind, eyes trained on them with a demotivated blink.

Well fuck.

 

\- - -

 

It’s falling apart.

The crown.

He really struggled with the last part. The whole end loop to tie everything together. And uh… Wow, yeah it’s showing.

At least Prompto looks pretty with flowers in his hair, whether they’ve fallen free from the circle or not.

That’s all that matters.

 

\- - -

 

Okay, that’s not all that matters.

He wants Prom to know that  _ he  _ was the one who made it for him. The one who stole himself away the last time they were up at Cape Caem so he could pick all those stupid little flowers and tie them together in the lighthouse.

He wants him to know that he had absolutely no idea what the hell he was doing but he still  _ did  _ it. Because he’s seen Prom make them. And he’s seen his small collection. And he’s seen how he lights up when he’s got them strung together in his hair like a pretty little fairy or something.

He wants that for him. And he wants him to realize that it’s such a shitty flower crown because  _ he  _ made it for him. Or...tried to, at least.

Yes, the world is falling apart around them and they have about four thousand other things to be worried about but-... 

Fuck.

Noctis sighs, the moonlight streaming through the slotted balcony doors and over where Prompto sleeps soundly on his chest. 

He’s doing that half-snore thing - the cute one that usually doesn’t hinder anyone else’s sleep. But sleep isn’t coming tonight. A fate worse than death. And Noctis just needs to do it.

“Hey…” he smooths the backs of his knuckles over Prompto’s soft cheek, coaxing him gently out of his fuzzy brainwaves, “...Prom…”

“Mmn…” his nose scrunches as he murmurs, eyes still closed and voice thick with sleep - so sweet that it truly is a shame that he has to be woken up, but…

“Prom…”

“Mm,” more movement, his hand balling up, fingers bringing Noctis’s shirt with it until he hazily blinks, head lifting, “M-...wha…? Wha-’s happening...”

“It’s okay,” he insists, making sure to keep his voice low. “I just wanna tell you something.” Prompto looks adorable like this. But Noctis knows he’s gotta make it quick. So. “I made that crown for you.”

A pensive blink. Clearly trying to fight the tendrils of sleep trying to haze over his brain. “...huh?”

But, “The flower crown,” Noctis explains gently - the one on the nightstand, half of it fallen apart after the day’s events, “I made it for you. That’s why it’s so shitty.”

The breeze that floats in through the balcony doors brushes Prompto’s bangs from his face just as it seems to sink in, if the little smile on his face as he sleepily blinks up at him is any indication. “...really?”

God, he’s so cute it hurts sometimes. 

Noctis rests his hand on the one still holding onto his shirt. “Yeah. Sorry it’s so bad.”

But his sleepy smile is growing, eyes closing again as he nuzzles in close enough to plant a kiss to the side of Noct’s mouth. “It’s not bad...” And then another one, square on the lips this time with a little help. “Wanna make some tomorrow…?”

It’s an invitation. 

Some one-on-one time to hone his craft. Something he sorely needs.

“Okay,” he grins.

“Okay,” Prom grins.

And then he’s tucking his head back down, shifting closer as Noctis pulls him in with the arm around his waist. 

And he’s out like a light again, Noct soon to follow.

 

\- - -

 

Their return to Cape Caem is a successful one. 

They hide themselves away toward the top of the hill near the lighthouse, and Noctis watches carefully as his better half strings together flower after flower with expert fingers.

He was making it harder than it actually is, turns out. But Prom is a gentle teacher - very kind - giggles as Noctis chucks a broken stem over the wooden fence and into the water below out of frustration.

“You know why I thought Iris made it, right?”

He’s got almost all of the blue flowers strung together when Prompto says it, the sad excuse of a first crown still on his head when Noctis looks up. “Do I?”

He laughs. _“Do_ you?”

Noctis lets his gaze pan to the landscape around them. The tall grass. The flowers. The shack at the middle-point of the hill. “Because…” he hadn’t even thought about  _ why,  _ honestly, but… “Because the flowers are from here?’

Prompto grins, “There we go.”

Hm. “I guess that’s not totally stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not saying  _ you’re  _ stupid.”

“Uh huh.” He’s still grinning though - that playful grin that fuels Noctis to complete the circle with his newfound knowledge and then lean over to place it on his boyfriend’s head. “Nice, this’s a good one.”

“You don’t have to wear the old one, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’re still gonna, aren’t you.”

“Mhm!” 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that dances across his face. Especially when Prompto knees over the grass to sit in his lap, his own finished off crown in hand. 

It’s laughable how much better it is than Noct’s - fuller white and yellow flowers patterned neatly in with the blue ones - but he’s not going to take it to heart. Because he knows Prompto made it especially for him, his eyes shimmering in the sun as he places it on Noct’s head and then sits back a little to admire it.

“How’s it look.”

“Very dashing,” he teases, with just enough room to reach over for his camera and snap a quick picture before Noctis grins, hand grabbing at it and helping to lower it back into the grass so he can lean forward and kiss him.

It gets another hum of a laugh from Prompto, his hands coming up to frame Noct’s neck as he throws his weight forward, sending them both backward into the tall grass in each other’s arms.

It’s cheesy and  clichéd and Noctis loves every minute of it.

  
  
  


* * *

 


	7. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Accidents Happen**
> 
> **Pairing:** Prompto/Noctis [FFXV]  
>  **Rating:** Teen  
>  **Word-count:** 1,580 words  
>  **Summary:** Prompto and Noctis may or may not accidentally kiss while cooking Iggy's birthday dinner. Prompto may or may not have a lot of feelings about it.  
>  **Additional Tags:** first kisses, fluff, they're awkward but we love them
> 
> _🐟 for @ofstrangeshadows! 🐟_

The sun has set and it’s getting harder and harder to see the fish Prompto’s trying to de-bone.

That, and Gladio’s lost control of one of the chocobos.

And something is on fire.

And Prompto is pretty sure Noct just cut himself on the knife he’s trying to wash in the makeshift sink.

BUT. If Ignis can do it, so can they. Especially since this is all  _ for  _ Iggy - his birthday coming only once a year and yes okay  _ ‘I’d be more comfortable preparing dinner myself’  _ he had said but listen. They’ve got this. They can treat their resident chef to a nice meal without killing themselves.

He…

He thinks…

“...is this even right?”

Noctis leans over from his own work station, soap bubbles to his elbows as he squints in the Galdin Quay moonlight. “...I think?”

They really should’ve paid more attention that one time Iggy guilted them into helping him with this meal prep. That, or maybe like...possibly pick a recipe they actually know how to cook. 

Welp - too late for that!

Besides, it’s not  _ so  _ bad. At least they get to listen to the waves while they cook. And at least this haven is on nice sturdy ground. And at least there’s three of them to do everything while Ignis has a drink at the Mother of Pearl.

Yeah! It could be so so much worse.

“Oh  _ fuck-” _

The clattering of dishes and Noct’s scattered alarm has Prompto looking up from the fish just in time for--  _ oh fuck yep shit that other fish is for sure on fire this time- _

“Gladio!”

“On it,” he’s already stepping between the two of them, spatula in hand and quickly lifting the flaming fish from the grill. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching this?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be  _ helping?”  _ (Noct’s not doing very good with patience right now.)

“Hey, who’s making sure the birds don’t trample down camp?”

“I could do that,” Prompto peeps up. Seriously, how did he end up being the one de-boning fish while Gladio gets to watch the chocobos?

“Ugh, this is exhausting...” (More whining from Noct.) 

Except it  _ is  _ totally exhausting. How in the world does Iggy do this every night? 

“Any chance there’s an Ebony left?” he has to ask. As much as he doesn’t like the taste of coffee without any sugar, he’s gotta get  _ something  _ going here. 

The fish gets placed back onto the grill, no longer a flaming ball of antimatter, so that Gladio can go check the cooler, his boots crunching against the ground. 

Noct is leaning over to inspect the charred remains of the fish in the meantime, hands beginning to prune. “Is that even salvageable?” 

Ohh, Prompto doesn’t even wanna look. “No idea…” 

The crisp crack of a can opening behind them is music to his ears, the simple promise of caffeine enough to fuel him. Gladio even has a straw in it so they can drink without having to dry their hands off.

What a doll.

“Don’t tell Iggy,” he says with the firmness of a man who knows exactly how possessive their fourth member is of his Ebony.

He’s not the only one.

“Hell no,” says Noct.

“Lips are sealed,” adds Prompto.

And then he leans to the side, gaze focused on the fish he’s turning on the cutting board as he goes to tongue the straw into his mouth.

Except.

Prompto freezes, brain catching up when what he feels is  _ not  _ the straw…or the can...or anything at all that has to do with the Ebony. Because what he feels instead is soft...warm...pursed just like his own lips in an attempt to catch the straw but-

But it’s-

Prompto’s head flies back just as Noct’s does, dark eyes wide but certainly not as intense as his own. 

Because they-

He just-

They just-

_ “Shit-” _

Gladio’s lurch toward the fish that has once again erupted into flames has Noctis breaking the eye contact - forces Prompto to do the same and wow - oh wow, that Trevally isn’t the only thing that’s on fire right now - oh god.

Okay he just has to focus.

He just has to let Gladio grumble about the fish now being  _ ‘for sure pitchable’. _

He has to concentrate on getting this raw one ready because they’re pretty much starting from scratch now but that’s okay because maybe Ignis will stay a little longer at the bar to give them more time and oh god it’s no use, he can’t stop thinking about it -  _ he and Noctis just accidentally kissed. _

 

\- - -

 

The moon shimmers prettily off the dark waves washing into the quay. 

Everything has been eaten and cleaned and packed up, Iggy’s birthday meal actually turning out to be a success despite themselves.

Prompto should really be back sitting around the fire with the rest of them, but he’s just far too jumpy - an energy surging through his limbs every time the thought crosses his mind.

The feeling.

The electricity that touch left in its wake.

He has to move around. Needs to chuck the stones the waves have brought in back into the water, the wet sand squishing between his toes as he does. 

Ugh… He really should be at the fire. 

He will. He’ll go back soon. He’s just gotta-

“Hey.”

Prompto’s throw cuts off half way, his arm pausing in the air as he turns his head to meet the presence joining him. 

Jeeze. Of course it’s him. 

“Hey Noct.” Alright, just push through. Feel the stone. Chuck it back into the water. “Mom and Dad send you to come get me...?”

There’s a lilt of amusement in his tone. 

One in Noct’s too as he lets out an easy hum of a chuckle. The sound of his footsteps in the sand is just as calming as usual, nothing able to change that. Even when he comes to rest next to him, attention turned to the water as well, his posture relaxed.

The duality of man. Able to rile Prompto up and ease him steady all at the same time. 

“Think Iggy’s gonna notice he’s missin’ a can…?” 

That gets him a dismissing murmur. One of those he uses to try to sound unaffected, even though Prompto can see right through him. 

And tonight, he’s got the feeling it doesn’t actually have anything to do with the Ebony.

“Noct-”

“We should talk about it, shouldn’t we.”

“Yeah.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyes to the moon. “Yeah…”

Because if they don’t, Prompto’s going to vibrate right out of his skin. And then what good would he be? 

“Kinda-...” how exactly does he go about it though? “Kinda  _ weird,  _ huh…”

“Definitely didn’t see it coming.”

“Me neither.” Prompto forces a smile. Weighs the stones in his hands. Runs his fingers over the smooth sides. Must not be reacting the way he’s supposed to be reacting because Noct is saying:

“You good…?”

And it’s almost kind of funny. Because, “Yeah,” yeah of course he’s good. He’s  _ really  _ good, if he’s gonna be honest. It’s just… “Just didn’t really want the first one to be like that, you know…?”

He can feel those eyes on him. Reading him. “...your first kiss…?” Piecing it together. “Or…” ...exactly as it dawns on Prompto what he’s said… “...or... _ our... _ first kiss…”

A warm ball of energy rises in his chest - more energy - more reason to grip a stone between his fingers and send it flying into the waves. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Prom...?”

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have said that. “...a-anyway… I’ll come back up in a few okay? You can tell Gladio I’ll watch the chocobos.”

“Prom.”

“I’m sure he’s sick of it after tonight and every-”

“Prompto.”

The hand that grabs his wrist right before he can throw is gentle - more calming than it should be as he uses it to turn Prompto until they’re facing each other. 

And oh, all the extra energy bouncing off every nook and cranny of his chest…

“You know…” Noct supposes, eyes not meeting his but also not letting go of his wrist, “I don’t think that really counted as a first kiss…”

Prompto swallows thickly, brows furrowing, “You don’t?”

“Mm-mm.”

Because Noct looks so handsome in the moonlight like this, the blush that’s blooming over his cheeks  _ just  _ noticeable in the dark. 

“I uh-...” oh boy… “Me neither…”

“Mm…”

The silence that follows is heavy but only uncomfortable because he doesn’t know what else to say. Doesn’t know how to go about this except for…

“On the beach though…” he chuckles sheepishly, “That’d be a good one.”

Noct’s eyes meet his, clearly catching on. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“With the waves and everything…”

“Yeah.”

“And the sand…”

“And the moonlight…”

“That’d definitely be good.”

Prompto nods, eyelashes fluttering as Noct’s gaze drops slowly to his where he wets his lips, “Yeah, that’d-...” both of them easing in, “...that’d be-”

The stones drop to the sand as their lips press perfectly together, a million points of beautiful energy flooding over Prompto’s body at the feeling. Because it’s even better this way - no longer an accident - Noct’s hands a little shaky as they pull him in by the waist, but with clear purpose.

Prompto sighs dreamily into it…

Wraps his arms around Noct’s middle…

Can’t help the grin that dances across his lips, growing wider at the feeling of it spreading to the ones they’re pressed against.

Because this. 

_ This  _ is a first kiss.

  
  


* * *

 


	8. The One Where Lance Eats Keith's Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The One Where Lance Eats Keith's Ass**
> 
> **Pairing:** Keith/Lance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,815 words  
>  **Summary:** It's a tale as old as time. Lance wants to eat Keith's ass. Keith wants to tease. Well...except for tonight. He can eat his ass tonight.  
>  **Additional Tags:** Crowd Pleaser AU, post-ending, mentions of pot use
> 
> _💙 for @meeokie's request! 💙_

Taking showers at Lance’s place is infinitely better than taking showers at his own. He’s got those stupid-soft towels, a shower head to die for,  _ and  _ Lance lets him pick and use whichever one of his body soaps his little heart desires. 

(He goes a straight week smelling like the citrus one Lance uses all the time. Until it starts to become Not Special. Then he moves onto some sort of sexy smelling beige stuff that makes his skin tingle for a reason he can’t explain but has no doubt Lance can.) 

Anyway, Hunk’s gone for the night.  Which means they’ve got the living room to themselves, Keith stretching back out onto his spot on the floor, his laptop still waiting where he had left it to shower.

And that’s not the only thing he left waiting for him, it seems.

It’s only a matter of time before he hears it. The not so subtle approach from behind… The little hum and then the feeling of a weight settling between his parted legs, one very familiar head face-planting directly onto his ass.

Keith blinks, a small smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth as he swipes a finger at his laptop pad to bring it to life again, the screen brightness dimmed to match the hazy lighting they used for their smoking session. “Miss me already?”

“Mm…” is the muffled response he gets. A soft grumble. A whine, if they’re going to be honest about it. “...babe…”

Keith scrolls a finger to the arrow keys, intimately familiar with this very setup.

He knows where this is going.

“Baaabe…” another mumble, Lance’s mouth moving lazily where it’s pressed against Keith’s sweatpants. “Why do you hate me…?”

Keith clicks his tongue in a tisk. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why make me suffer so…”

“You know you’re losing a lot of credibility when you say that while using my ass as a pillow, right?”

Another murmur of a whine, “I’d rather use it as a bowl…”

That has Keith glancing up from his laptop, eyes narrowing as he tries to work that one out for himself before tossing a look over his shoulder at him. “That supposed to be sexy?”

He  _ kinda  _ gets it. Bowl. Eating. 

All the ideas are there, they’re just not assembled the right way. 

But Lance seems to care even less than him, the pot leaving his pupils nice and blown as he drags his face up to peer at him. “Baby…” And fuck - there are those sad puppy eyes. 

Keith would scoff if he wasn’t busy trying not to give in. Because those eyes are straight-up evil in their preciousness. Those eyes are the eyes that convinced him to skinny-dip at Nyma’s party after everyone else passed out. It wasn’t even even Nyma’s pool. They went like three houses down for it.

And now here he is. Again. On the receiving end of what could quite easily be named The Cutest Shit On The Fucking Planet. And…

“Lance…”

Because he’s still peering up at him - still keeping that sweet eye-contact - but he’s lowered his face to press a warm, open-mouthed kiss to Keith’s ass cheek, a ripple of interest sparking up Keith’s body from the sight of it. And the feeling of it. 

And now the sound, his voice low and breathy. “Fuck mami, lemme eat you out...”

Keith schools his expression - something that’s just as hard to do as it was the first time Lance used that voice on him. Because he loves to string him along in retaliation. Loves to tease him - not give him exactly what he wants right away. But…

But he  _ has  _ been denying him this for so long now. Ever since they started dating, really.

And as enormously fun as turning the tables and teasing Lance is… Well… Well  _ fuck,  _ Keith really needs his ass ate by this boy.

So.

“Do it then.”

And oh...the exact moment the sweetness of those puppy eyes melts into pleasant and greedy surprise - “...serious...?” - Keith will remember that for years to come. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s done teasing. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and then turns his head away to go back to his laptop without so much as a hint that he’ll help in any way. 

But Lance doesn’t need help. Lance is self-sufficient. Lance is a hands-on sort of guy and the feeling of said hands grabbing both cheeks and squeezing as he plants another open-mouthed kiss to him is hot, but not as hot as the near-growl that rumbles from the back of his throat as he does it. Like he can’t contain himself. Like he’s starving and finally been given a meal. 

And yeah, Keith’s already decided this is a good idea.

Lady A’s Tumblr feed scrolls lazily down the laptop screen as he feels Lance’s fingers dipping under the waistband of his sweatpants at his hips. All it takes is one pull - one long...unrushed...revealing pull that has Lance letting out a low hum of appreciation as he unwraps Keith’s bare ass like a delicate present on Christmas.

And it doesn’t stop. His sweatpants make it all the way to his ankles and then free from him entirely and all Keith does is shift a little to help. Nothing more. 

Lance doesn’t need him to.

“Ugh, fuck babe…” he murmurs, his breath hot against Keith’s skin as he takes his place between his legs from behind again, both hands running over him in gratitude. “...love your ass so much…”

Keith suppresses a grin, eyes to his laptop. “I know you do…”

Lance has made that perfectly clear more times than he can count - has never been shy about his appreciation - indulges with another two-handed grab and kisses the meaty part of Keith’s ass before grazing his teeth over the spot with another one of those low growls.

It’s enough to send more sparks up Keith’s spine as he lies there, unable to see what’s coming next and honestly kind of living for the surprise. Because it means he’s at the whim of Lance’s hands - the way they squeeze lovingly again - the way they knead - the way they slide around to grip under Keith’s hips and tilt him up so he can-

“Hh-...” Keith bites off a heated breath, excitement coursing through his body at the feeling of Lance’s warm finger dipping between his cheeks to trace up and down. 

He didn’t even really do anything yet. It’s just the surprise, is all. 

And anyway Lance is already moving on - is already gently spreading Keith’s cheeks and admiring with something mumbled that Keith can’t understand and  _ oh-  _ ...god…

Keith steadies another breath, Lance’s hot on his skin as he ducks forward to drag his tongue wetly up his crease, savoring with another hum and then dropping down to do it again - this time slower.

It’s enough to have things muffling out around them for a moment. Enough to bring his full attention to Lance’s tongue lapping him up. And Keith knows he’s supposed to be playing hard to get, but  _ fuck  _ does it feel good.

“Mm…” Lance hums against him, eyes no doubt shut in contentment as he presses his mouth to Keith’s entrance, hands giving him another squeeze as he slowly circles his tongue around it. 

It’s at his own leisure - unhurried and affectionate and everything Keith assumed it would be every time Lance hounded him about eating him out. 

Lance is in heaven and honestly, Keith can’t deny that he’s right there with him.

“Hhhm,” he breathes out, eyes falling shut at the feeling of Lance’s mouth all nice and slick against his hole - tongue drawing his hips to lightly buck with every flick. “Okay… So you really  _ are  _ good at this…”

It’s supposed to be a joke and he can feel Lance’s lips smirking. Can feel his hands grip at his hips again and pull him up closer so he can drag his mouth from side to side between his cheeks, sucking softly. 

It’s killing him not to say anything. Keith knows it is. But with the choice of either snapping off a joke or finally being able to eat Keith’s ass, it’s clear what he’s gonna pick.

And Keith’s all for it. Because the way he laps his hot tongue over his entrance and then playfully starts to dip inside has him so hard it’s starting to hurt. 

And he knows he’s lost his attempt at pretending to ignore him because his laptop dimmed a long time ago. And if he was ignoring him he wouldn’t be pressing back into his mouth, trying to get that tongue to stop teasing and just fuck him. And-

_ smack! _

Keith’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth dropping open at the sting Lance’s hand leaves on his cheek as he continues to eat him out and  _ yes okay, that was hot as fuck - more of that please. _

And  _ god, _ he’s so hard. 

Keith reaches a hand under himself, the other brought to his mouth and sleeve damp from where he’s bitten down. But he barely gets a chance to touch himself before one of the hands keeping his cheeks apart drops off to nudge him away.

Keith groans, about to snap off something Not Very Nice when it’s plucked right out from under him, a wave of pleasure washing over him as Lance’s hand wraps around him instead. 

And yeah - okay - that definitely works.

“Fuck…” he practically pants, eyes rolling in the back of his head and fingers dragging his bangs back as he tries to keep his head up. Because it’s all so much - Lance’s tongue starting to delve in nice and deep while his hand slowly strokes him underneath.

He’s definitely getting close.

Definitely wants to see.

Definitely needs to cum and then ride Lance’s cock into next Tuesday. 

It’s only a matter of time now. Only a few more strokes. Just a little more of Lance’s tongue fucking him, his spit dribbling down but who cares because it’s hot and  _ oh-  _ “Fuck - m’gonna cum-” it’s all tipping inside him and-  _ “-you’re gonna make me cum-”  _ and-

Keith’s mouth drops open, the curl of hot tingling pleasure rolling through his body as he cums onto his sweater, his forehead pressed against the floor and shoulders tensing to keep him up and  _ fuck- fuck fuck fuck  _ Lance is still fucking him with his tongue-

“B-...babe-,” he grits out, eyes squeezed shut tight because-  _ “Lance- fuck-...” _

It drops off just in time. Gives Keith the second he needs. Comes back again, but this time gently, the flat of his tongue licking slowly over his entrance.

Lance must know what’s coming.

Must know what Keith has in store for him as soon as he can collect himself.

And honestly, Keith is beginning to forget why he ever denied Lance this in the first place.

 

 

* * *

 


	9. Yes Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Yes Sir**
> 
> **Pairing:** Keith/Lance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,521 words  
>  **Summary:** "I didn't know you were a dom and when I jokingly called you sir you almost jumped me."  
>  **Additional Tags:** secret dom/top lance, kinda bratty keith, rough sex  
>  _💙 for @lovelyawesome! 💙_

The first time is an accident. 

A joke. 

They’re all gathered around the drawing table forming a loose plan regarding their recon mission, and Keith isn’t sure if anyone else notices it, but Lance is noticeably more testy for a reason he can’t explain. 

He can’t explain it but it’s happening. And he’s snapping off all these alternate plans because apparently Keith’s  _ aren’t good enough _ and honestly, it would be enough to piss Keith off if he wasn’t so damn confused by Lance’s attitude.

Because he’s not taking no for an answer. And he’s sticking to his guns. And at this point, Keith doesn’t even care anymore because they’ve been discussing it for forever so when Lance says it - “That’s the plan, okay?” - he can’t help but snap into a half-assed salute, the words falling from his mouth not nearly as sarcastically as he’d like.

“Yes  _ sir.” _

And that’s the exact moment in time when he sees it. 

The sudden spark in Lance’s eyes.

How it melts into something hooded and stern and almost-...

_...almost… _

Keith’s knuckles crack against the table as he eases off his salute, brows furrowing just the slightest as the noise breaks Lance’s gaze from him - sends it dropping to the table as well, only it’s not dropping back to the plans. It’s scanning. In his head. A little wider than necessary like he’s just  _ realized  _ something and-... 

What... _ was that,  _ exactly…?

Hunk breaks it up - breaks  _ what  _ up? - breaks... _ that  _ up and keeps the conversation going and was that even noticeable? Did anyone else see that shit? Or was it just him. 

Lance is silent after that.

Keith is intrigued.

 

* * *

The second time is not an accident. But it’s still a joke.

Because there may be a thousand things to do, but Keith can’t stop thinking about Lance. That fucking  _ look.  _ It was heavy but lightning-quick and he’s thought about it so much that he might be skewing it in his brain at this point so-... So just one more peek. Just the one.

Lance’s bounce-back time is as troublingly impeccable as always. It’s like nothing ever even happened in the first place, which is what Keith’s decided to use as explanation for the little tingle of interested excitement in the tips of his fingers as he sits here, across the meeting table from Lance, business as usual.

Except it’s pretty far from business as usual, because they’re the only two paladins here, the rest of the table filled with dignitaries from this planet they landed on two days ago. Which means Keith is free to test - free to poke the beast without the risk of having the others there to call him out on his shit.

It’s what makes the expression on Lance’s face so entertaining when he first catches Keith’s gaze across the table - the acknowledgement - the casual return to the conversation around them - the quick glance back to find that yes, Keith  _ is  _ still looking at him - quick eyes darting around the room and then back to Keith, brows etching together in subtle confusion.

Even if Keith doesn’t draw out that look again, he’d be completely fine with what he’s getting now. That clear gear-work in Lance’s head - not exactly uncomfortable but definitely trying to figure out why Keith’s giving him the eyes. 

It’s what makes the transition so compelling, Lance taking the loud moment of joint discussion to lean forward a little bit, voice lowered when he says it. “You uh-... You feelin’ alright man?”

Because it’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s setting it up, Keith now given free reign to continue his stare as he attempts to pull it out of him again with a confident: “Yes sir…”

And it’s-... 

It’s like clockwork. 

Those fucking  _ eyes. _

They melt and harden and blink and  _ yes, Keith knew it wasn’t a coincidence.  _

Lance wants to joke. Wants to make a joke and break out of it - it’s clear in the way he closes his eyes to steady himself - “Why-...” - clear with exactly how humorless his huff of a chuckle is, “...why’re you saying that.”

The grin that tugs on Keith’s lips is amused. “Saying w-”

“You  _ know  _ what.”

Lance  _ bites it  _ \- surprises Keith and surprises his own damn self by the way he cracks his knuckles and forces himself to look away and-...and  _ wow.  _ ...Keith’s never heard  _ that  _ voice before.

The conversation around them is starting to die down. Starting to be filled with too many holes that can expose them. 

And Keith honestly didn’t expect Lance to get this worked up so quickly but holy shit is it...actually kind of...um…

He lets it go.

Lets it die.

Doesn’t look at Lance anymore the entire meeting. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s actually focusing on what the dignitaries say.

 

* * *

 

Keith is self-aware enough to accept that he’s grown sort of a  _ thing  _ for Lance over the years.

But this new concept… 

This... _ way  _ that he didn’t know he could be...

It has Keith seeking it out. Has him seeking  _ Lance  _ out. Has him bugging him - staring - saying things he would never say and aligning their shower times and  _ bugging bugging bugging  _ him until he snaps - until he breaks loose - until he’s right behind Keith, a hand clamping down on the back of his neck and his shoulder and the bathroom is spinning until the side of Keith’s face is pressing tightly against the cold counter and he-

Lance has him-

The warmth behind him backs away as quickly as it came but the damage is done. And Keith’s whipping his head up, eyes wide but not as wide as Lance’s reflection staring back at him, his hands frozen in front of himself like he’s realizing what he’s just done and-

And…

And he’s just-... 

“W-...” struggling. “Sorry, I don’t-...” 

Keith’s pulse is pounding. 

Every fiber of his being lit. 

Fire left where Lance’s hands pressed into his skin and-

The door swishes shut tightly, leaving him to gather his own conclusions alone.

 

* * *

 

The third time is not an accident and not a joke.

They’re still on the new planet but Keith doesn’t care. 

It’s probably too late at night but Keith doesn’t care.

This could be a huge mistake and potentially ruin everything he’s ever built but he doesn’t care. He wants those hands. Wants that voice. Wants that look. 

Wants Lance and only Lance to give it to him.

So when the door opens, Keith presses forward without hesitation - presses inside - doesn’t stop until he gets to the center of the bedroom and turns and Lance is  _ staring  _ at him, still at his door - guarded and so carefully silent. 

He’s cautious after their last encounter but Keith couldn’t be more ready. Can feel his pulse taking off as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head - makes it enticing for him - lets it drop to the floor and keeps that eye contact as Lance watches with furrowed brows but doesn’t move from his spot.

Keith swallows thickly. Feels the nerves swirling but doesn’t care. Sticks to his guns and  _ stands there  _ \- challenges - takes Lance in from the floor up and anticipates all the things he wants those hands to do to him and holds it when he reaches Lance’s eyes as he finally speaks.

“Are you still fucking with me?”

It’s careful. A clear question. 

But Keith simply shakes his head, the air thickening around him as he says it, lowly. “No sir…”

He wants an immediate reaction and doesn’t get it. Wants Lance to punch forward and sweep him off his feet but what he gets is a silent up-down - hooded eyes trailing down Keith’s bare chest. Considering.

And when Lance finally does move forward, it’s with a confident step - a confident step right toward him that has Keith’s pulse picking up against his wrists because that’s-...that’s definitely not how he moves normally. This is something else.

Keith swallows as Lance settles in front of him, closer than necessary, air thick.

“What do you want, then.”

And oh god, this could actually happen. They could actually do this. Keith can’t stop the smirk that lifts from the thought of it. “I want you to fuck me, sir.”

Lance’s eyes fall closed - a long, steadying breath from his nose showing just how quickly his resolve is thinning. And then, just as Keith's beginning to doubt…

“Down.”

A shiver runs up Keith’s spine, the lowering in Lance’s voice and sternness of his tone so convincing that he kneels right there - waits patiently for it - never thought he’d be on his knees for Lance for any reason but-...but yeah, he has to admit the sight of Lance staring down at him as he unzips his pants is a beautiful one.

Especially as he says it - “Open your mouth.” - jaw clenching lightly in restraint when Keith does so without hesitation - hand pulling himself out and resting the head of his cock on Keith’s tongue.

He’s already hard. Keith would make fun of him if he wasn’t aching in his pants already. 

It’s been so long since he’s been with someone. Been so long since he’s had a cock in his mouth. Been so long since he’s gotten off that he doesn’t even care that Lance is rocking his hips forward - tugging his shirt past his stomach so he can see himself fuck Keith’s mouth.

There’s just something about it that turns Keith on even more - being used like this - not even given the chance to suck him off on his own. He doesn’t fucking care. Because he knows the sloppier Lance’s cock gets, the better it’ll feel inside him. So he welcomes the hands that come down to frame below his ears, spit dribbling down his chin as Lance holds him steady and fucks his face.

It’s just the last rock forward that’s a little too much - Keith’s mouth pulling off and the little choking sound from the back of his throat almost embarrassing, if it didn’t get Lance’s thumb to wipe away some of the drool from the corner of his mouth, that is, his voice absolutely heavenly. 

“You okay…?”

Keith nods, out of breath but ready for more. Ready for all of it. Ready for-

“Stand up.”

Gathering to his feet is a little disorienting but Lance is there with orders for what’s next, hands already turning him and pressing his chest down tightly against the stone desk in the corner of the room and-

“...’m all ready…” Keith breathes out, eyes closed, blood on fire.

Especially when he feels his pants getting tugged down, his ass bared and stuck out like this and it could be really embarrassing if he didn’t have the shiver running up his body as Lance tests his claim with a finger, dipping in the most frustrating bit but not all the way.

“Wow,” he leans down to speak into Keith’s ear from behind, “you  _ really  _ just assumed I was gonna fuck you, huh.”

It sends out a wave of delicious anticipation, Keith unable to control the smirk on his face. “Mhm.”

The tip of Lance’s finger plays inside him - strokes teasingly shallow. “I should’ve known you’re a huge brat…” 

It only has Keith’s smirk growing. “Mhm.”

And in retrospect, he should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve seen Lance’s next move from a mile away. But everything has hazed over gloriously - and Keith’s brain is in his dick - so when the finger in his ass disappears and Lance’s cock plunges in deep, it sends sparks up Keith’s entire body, his eyes squeezing shut and the most devastating moan in the world pouring out of him until he can get a hand slapped over his mouth and  _ fuuuuck fuck fuck Lance is- _

_ “Jesus  _ you’re loud,” he chuckles darkly, hand still clamped over the back of Keith’s neck as he pitches forward, “You really like dick that much, huh,” hips pistoning hard and fast and  _ fuck,  _  “Or maybe it’s just  _ my  _ dick.”

Keith immediately tries to shut himself up even more - can’t stop the continued muffled whine that stutters with every one of Lance’s thrusts because fuck - yes - it’s Lance’s dick - it’s Lance’s dick that he needs inside him for the rest of his life.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it,” Lance’s voice is like gravel - hot and breathy in the best way. “Tried to work me up so I’d fuck you senseless, isn’t it.” The fingers that tangle into the top of Keith’s hair tug his head back, throat exposed.  _ “Isn’t it.” _

“Yes,” Keith pants, no longer able to cover his mouth, the sting so perfect it has tears pricking the corners of his closed eyes. “Yes, b-...”  _ but oh god... _ “...but it worked, though.”

Suddenly Lance’s hips snap still.

Body moves off entirely.

Has Keith’s eyes shooting open at the abrupt loss and-... And  _ realizing  _ that this is because of what he’s said and-... 

And no. No no no, that’s not fair.

“Lan-”

“Don’t talk. Just stand there.”

“But-”

_ “Don’t. Talk.” _

Keith tries to steady his breath, his entire body so fucking keyed up that he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get those hands on him again. 

He can’t. He’s gotta-

“Lance-”

Only he doesn’t even get to turn all the way before the floor is dropping out from under him, the ease with which Lance hoists him over his shoulder not only puzzling but so hot that he almost misses it when he gets thrown onto the bed.

Almost.

Because then Lance is swooping back down over him, pupils blown and bottom lip tugged between his teeth in concentration as he grabs Keith’s ankles and tosses them over his shoulders until Keith’s knees are to his own chest, the press so tight and exposing and  _ holy shit Lance is sinking back in so deep oh god- _

Keith fucking melts - just fucking melts right into the mattress as the head of Lance’s cock presses quickly against his prostate over and over and over again and it’s-...oh god Keith’s close already and-

“Tell me,” Lance orders, stern but breathy, “Tell me, Keith.”

“Gonna-...”

_ “Tell me-” _

“Gonna make me c-” he can’t even get it out before it rushes over him, arm thrown over his mouth to muffle the sound as he cums on himself in hot bursts - waves of heat and pleasure and melting tingles and all he wants is Lance to tip over too and he gets it.

He gets Lance’s hips stuttering and the beautifully painful sting of Lance’s teeth biting his thigh as he cums inside him and it’s all so much that Keith loses a little bit of time - just lets it sweep him off his fucking feet and hangs onto Lance for dear life.

Because it’s something he didn’t even realize he wanted until it was  _ all  _ he wanted. Something he’ll want more and more in the nights to come. Something Lance will be more than glad to give to him, especially if Keith’s been chasing after it all day.

Because at first, it was an accident.

But now, they both know exactly what he's doing. 

  
  
  


* * *

 


	10. Head Rush Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Head Rush Pt. 2**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,005 words  
>  **Summary:** After a few times, Keith catches on that Lance likes to get high and jerk off while talking to him on the phone and decides to feed into it. But what's best is, Lance doesn't know Keith knows.  
>  **Additional Tags:** background weed use, frottage, keith pretends he's oblivious but it's really Lance who's oblivious this time
> 
> ✨part two of @pink-hair-revolution’s request! ✨
> 
> Please read [Part One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867456/chapters/39608770)!

For a long time, Keith doesn’t understand what’s happening.

Like...what’s  _ really happening. _

Lance takes care of his body. This is a known fact. He’s sporadic with his workout schedule, sure, but… How many times can Keith call and hear him out of breath before he realizes that he’s  _ not  _ actually in the middle of his crunches?

Three.

Three times.

It takes three  _ whole motherfucking times  _ for Keith to catch on that his friend’s panting is just a little too ragged. And his words are just a little too heated. And his phone connection just happens to cut off off at the right time?  _ Every  _ time?

It’s not his phone.

It’s Lance.

Lance is... _ jerking off  _ on the other side of their call.

Or something. Touching himself, at least.  _ Why  _ he would touch himself when they’re talking about nothing - Keith doesn’t know. It’s not like it’s-...like… It’s not  _ sexy. _ Whatever they’re talking about isn’t sexy. So why Lance would jerk off to it is beyond Keith’s comprehension. 

…

...unless…

...unless it’s…not the actual conversation that gets him going… 

The fourth time, Lance calls first. 

He calls and his thoughts are high and scattered but he’s noticeably trying to sound like they’re not and Keith...just... _ talks. _

Just talks.

Just...strings together a story about something that didn’t even fucking happen and listens to the way Lance’s breathing starts to pick up. Listens to him “work out”. Realizes, with a swirling sense of confusing interest...that it’s his voice. It’s his voice that does it for Lance. 

It takes four times but he finally  _ gets  _ it. 

And even if the concept of his best friend jacking off to his voice is a little startling, Keith can’t deny the little fire it lights deep in his belly. Can’t shake the thrill that sparks from it. 

Can’t fight the anticipation for the next time he hears those breaths on the other side of their call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith sees it on Snapchat first - the unintended inclusion of the joint on the windowsill in the background of Lance’s snap.

It isn’t on purpose but that hardly matters because Keith has an idea. A plan. Knows what he’s doing-...at least...kind of. Enough to know that all he has to do is wait a little bit. Wait a little bit for Lance’s high to get good and heated and then…

_ br-r-r-r-ing _

_ br-r-r-r-ing _

_ br-r-r-r-ing _

He’s taking a while to answer - just like the other times. 

And as patient as Keith is, sitting here on his bed listening to the outgoing call tone, he can’t help the little buzz of excitement that each ring has building on top of each other. Because it’s only a matter of time before-

_ “Hey dude…” _

Keith sits up straight, focus tuned to the other side - to what he can hear -  “Got a sec?” 

To Lance’s voice. 

_ “Uh…”  _

It’s not overly breathy. Not tense. But if there’s one thing Keith’s familiar with, it’s his best friend’s normal speaking patterns. And this is not it.

_ “Yeah-... Yeah, man what’s up.” _

It has him pushing forward - attention out the window and fixed to the german shepherd walking her human past the apartment as he sets his plan in motion inside. 

“I have a person question for you.”

It’s the setup.

Their routine.

Something Keith very heavily relies on Lance for just on a normal day, so maybe he shouldn’t abuse it like this, now that he thinks about it.

Only it’s too late. Because Lance is already answering, so clearly used to the ritual of dishing out social cue advice for him that his response flows off his tongue without effort.

_ “Alright - shoot.” _

And it should really be a commentary on Keith. But this is not  _ about  _ Keith. Not today, at least. He may not know exactly  _ what  _ it’s about yet, but it’s definitely not about his shitty ability to decipher people’s impossible-

_ “Keith?” _

“Yeah.” Alright, focus. “I um-...” Keith closes his eyes… Switches his brain back to the story he made up last night for this very occasion… He’s got it all planned out. He just has to...execute. “I was at kickboxing,” he starts, brows furrowing before peeking one eye open, “this morning…”

There’s silence on the other end…

The quiet clearing of Lance’s throat in the background…

...more...silence...

_ “...yeah?” _

“Yeah.”

It’s cool. He just has to remain calm and convincing.

_ “What happened - someone fuck with you or somethin’?” _

Keith steadies himself, thumb brushing habitually over the side of his pointer finger. “No, I-... Okay.” It’s time. “I was sparring with this guy I’ve never sparred with before.” No he wasn’t. “And we were like...evenly matched and all that shit so we were all sweaty.” No they weren’t. “And I like-...kinda… I pinned him...to the mats…”

No he didn’t.

No he didn’t.

He didn’t even fucking  _ have  _ kickboxing this morning.

But Lance doesn’t know that.

_ “Okay… So where exactly is the-”  _

“He was hard, Lance.” It rushes out of his mouth before he can wrangle it back in. Before he can take it back and make it sexy and- “I had him pinned and he was just fucking-...” -jesus christ why is he getting so worked up over this  _ it didn’t even happen- _

_ “Whoa - wait - what? You serious?” _

But Lance’s brain must be in his dick because he doesn’t seem to see the improbability of it all, which works well for Keith. “Yeah.”

_ “Like  _ hard- _ hard?” _

“Hard-hard.”

_ “You’re sure?” _

“It was a sloppy pin- I sorta-...” Does he dare say it. “Our junk was like...pressed together -  _ yes  _ I’m sure.”

He said it.

Planted the image.

Kind of really wants to see what’s happening on the other end of this call right now. Wants to see if this is working the way it’s supposed to be working. If he’s playing into the little game Lance likes to play with himself lately. His instincts have him confident but all he needs is the affirmation. The sign.

_ “Wh-... So what’d you do…”  _

And there it is. The breath. The barely-there pant.

It would be subtle if Keith wasn’t sitting here listening for it.

“I uh...” the curl of interest in his own belly is just as subtle but just as real. “I dunno, I just...got up?” Pleasant, even with it being a little alarming. “What was I  _ supposed  _ to do?”

_ “No, that’s-...”  _ the pause is out of place...a weighted moment before the heated chuckle that follows settles right in Keith’s lap, “ _ Dude, I can’t believe this…” _

It’s more curled interest - warm - blooming in him as he draws his fingers over the seam of his bedspread. “But like...what does it mean…?”

_ “Heh, seriously?” _

He’s gotta stop laughing or this is gonna backfire on Keith so quickly. “Seriously.”

_ “Means he liked gettin’ manhandled by you, bud.” _

“Isn’t that weird though?”

_ “Why.” _

“Because I didn’t-...” He’s getting flustered. Needs to stay in control, even with how Lance’s voice is starting to melt makes that very difficult. “I technically wasn’t even supposed to pin him.”

_ “Probably what got him so turned on.” _

“So it’s my fault?”

_ “S’nobody’s fault, man. I’da done the same thing.” _

Keith rolls his eyes - “...what, pinned him?” - feels his disbelief drop slowly as it dawns on him - “...or...”

Or…

The other one…

Another stretch of silence. 

Longer this time...

_ Heavier _ this time… Fabric rustling softly on the other end… Breaths  _ just  _ too off-even to explain without that swirl of excitement rising in his own stomach.

And Keith shouldn’t, should he. But he does. He fills the space and the silence and he lies forward, his body pillow nice and snug under him as he props himself up with his elbows.  

“How much more of your workout do you have.”

The hidden double meaning is to die for. Is worth the little pluck of his pulse picking up in his chest as Lance’s response trickles in... 

_ “...not much...” _

Because Keith can imagine it now. His friend a call away, hand roaming - confident - stoking its own fire.

“It’s still weird.” Another hidden double meaning but Keith’s certain Lance doesn’t catch this one either. Not with how he can hear his swallow it’s so thick.

_ “...not weird...” _

And Keith wants more. Wants to push it. Knows Lance isn’t in his right mind in more ways than one and that gives him a little liberty to get away with shit he normally wouldn’t do - feigned innocence his partner in crime. “So what you’re saying is...if I just fucking pinned you down right now it wouldn’t be weird?”

And he knows it’s not  _ for  _ him but damn, doesn’t  _ that  _ sound interesting… Interesting enough to maybe imagine a little himself. To play into the game as well.

To rock his hips just a little into his body pillow and coax the warmth inside him too...

_ “W-... Well you’re not here, so…” _

Lance is so breathy it’s almost a crime. 

And Keith’s not gonna stop. “Fine, pretend I am, then.” He’s gonna make his point and what’s most amazing of all is, it’s not the point Lance believes he’s trying to make. “Pretend I’m there with you, okay?”

_ “Uh… ...alright...” _

Alright. “You’re probably already all sweaty and gross from working out but pretend I am too. We’re both hot and nasty and I just - “ Keith’s lashes flutter shut as he slowly rocks his hips into his pillow, “ - I just knock you down and pin you to the floor... ...you’re really gonna tell me that gets you hard?”

The pleasure that washes over him is frighteningly enjoyable. Not something he should be indulging in. Not with his best friend.

But...

“...Lance?”

It’s only fair since he’s not the only one.

_ “...h…”  _ Oh wow, he’s gone.  _ “...huh…” _

But Keith’s not done. “I said are you hard?” 

Theoretically. 

_ Theoretically. _

But theoretically or not, he isn’t getting an answer - nothing more than a little hitch in the back of Lance’s throat and the very obvious muffled movement of his phone not being where his phone is supposed to be.

It’s impossible not to imagine - Lance sitting there -  _ lying  _ there? - free hand working himself over as he tries his hardest to stay quiet. Keith can see it all painted perfectly behind his eyelids, his hips picking up to a nice, steady rhythm that heats him from the top down.

“Lance…?”

It’s too heated. 

Too breathy.

But there’s a good chance Lance isn’t even listening to him anymore. An even better chance that he can’t hear him over his own heavy breathing. It has Keith biting his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. Just in case. Staying quiet. Doing an astronomically better job than him, even with the waves of easy pleasure washing over him as he ruts against his pillow, phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“...Lance…”

But it’s not a response he gets - no words - it’s even better - the sound of his phone clattering to the floor almost as exciting as the one long, shuddering breath that he probably thinks is masked by the distance.

But Keith can hear it. 

He can hear all of it.

And as soon as they reach that point, Lance’s phone “dropping the call” and Keith ending it, he knows he wants to hear it again.

Because he gets it now. Has heard Lance  _ cum _ \- and even if it’s not in person, that doesn’t make the thrill that runs up Keith’s spine any less intense - doesn’t mean it’ll  _ always not be in person. _

Keith lets his phone drop to the mattress, both arms free to wrap around his body pillow as he lets the image flesh out in his mind. 

It’s not the first time he’s seen it, but it’s different now - has a sort of realistic possibility to it now - and you can bet your life he’s gonna chase after it until he gets what he wants.

At least, until the next time he calls Lance during his workout, that is.

And who knows. 

Maybe he’ll invite him to kickboxing next week.


	11. Easy, Tiger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Easy, Tiger.
> 
>  **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 4,020 words  
>  **Summary:** Here's the thing. Keith? He thinks he's this huge badboy. And that shit gets on Lance's nerves because he knows for a damn _fact_ that he could fuck him right back into his place if he got the chance.  
>  **Additional Tags:** private boy's school au, classclown!lance, badboy!keith, uniforms, rough sex, top lance, cigarette smoking, there's talk about a schoolyard fight but not in detail 
> 
> ✨for @lovelyawesome's request! ✨

“Avatar Aangst is back. Exactly _how_ many days of suspension is arson supposed to get you again?”

A contrasting picture of ease, Hunk shrugs next to him, his back resting against their oak tree like usual. “I’unno… Does it matter?”

_“Yes.”_

_“Why.”_

Lance frowns, eyes flicking back to where their topic of discussion steals himself away from administrative view in the building alcove, as broody as ever as he brings his cigarette up to his lips. “Because.”

He doesn’t need a reason. They both know damn well that Keith’s only hanging on by a metaphorical thread because his older brother is a counselor here. And even if Lance has never had any specific beef with him - never technically been on the other end of one of his classic fist fights - he still just... _pisses him off._ His whole... _bad boy bullshit._ How he feels the need to throw dirty looks at him all the time. It’s annoying, is what it is.

“If anything, you should be worried about the guys on the soccer team.”

Lance’s frown stays true, watching from across the courtyard as Keith takes another drag of his technically forbidden cigarette. “The soccer team’s harmless.”

But Hunk’s _‘_ _uh huh’_ is not at all convinced. “You can’t make a joke about them not having balls and expect them to let it go.”

Another gust of wind carries over the stink of smoke just in time for the school’s midfielder to pass their spot - like a message sent from up high - a warning in real-time. But, “Yeah yeah…” Lance mumbles, even as those eyes lock onto his and hold tight, only letting up once he’s passed to allow room for the dark ones across the courtyard to take their place.

Heavy.

Sending a flare up Lance’s spine much more effectively than the first.

He’s just racking up those negative attention points today, isn’t he.

 

* * *

 

 

On Thursday it rains.

It rains so hard that everything kind of sucks a little and Lance is late for a cheer meeting but he’s finding it extremely hard to care.

The running from building to building, you see, is so he can stay dry. Not because he’s late. He’d rather sacrifice some time than show up all soaked and raggedy, thank you very much - which is why he stops at the little standalone building of toilets, the door creaking from the humidity as he pushes himself through.

It’s blissfully empty - everyone else in classes or meetings or _whatever_ except for the fact that…

The fact that it’s not empty.

At all.

Lance blinks tiredly - takes a moment - pulls his bag over his shoulder and sets it on the ground as he keeps eye contact with the boy sitting cross-legged on the counter, cigarette perched between his fingers.

Great.

Whatever, he’s just gotta piss. Two seconds and then he can move on with his day.

His shoes squeak against the tile as he turns and takes his place at the urinal. Anyone else would be wary of turning their back to a guy like Keith but right now, Lance has something a little more important to take care of.

He can definitely feel the gaze burning into the back of his head, though. It’s not the first time he’s felt it at this school. But it’s certainly a new experience to hear sneakers gripping down onto the tile, their steps growing closer and closer as he’s slowly advanced on from behind.

Just trying to piss.

Just minding his own damn business.

Just-

Lance’s gaze pulls up tiredly to the wall in front of him - just short of where the one smoking cigarette has passed by his cheek and is now being snuffed out against the white tile.

It sizzles.

Dies out.

Can’t fully distract from the energy lurking close behind him, the arm reached over his shoulder just short of touching.

It’s an intimidation move.

But Lance isn’t having it today.

The sound of the zipper scraping up his uniform pants echoes in the heavy silence...his belt clanking...fabric rustling as he straightens his shirt and then turns - full on - face to face with the boy now inches away so he can ask it.

“Get a good peek?”

His question is rhetorical and they both fucking know it and Lance has to admit he gets a nice little tingle up his spine as he pushes past him, shoulders brushing not very gently on his way to the sink.

He’s gonna get punched. He knows it. He can smell it in the air, clear soap pumping thickly into his hand as he continues on with his business before-

“Stop staring at me.”

A pause. A moment, soap lathered but fingers stilling until… “Who’s staring…”

The faucet handle squeaks and Keith slides into reflection in the mirror like some sort of fucking horror movie, “You are. Outside. _Every day.”_

But Lance doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t do anything but rinse his hands, water dripping to the floor as he reaches for a paper towel, posture cool. “Okay so… That would mean _you’re_ staring at me every day too. So who’s _really_ the stalker here, you feel me?” He makes a two-pointer into the trash, finally turning to face Keith again and-

And his answer is right up in his face in a heartbeat, shoulders squared and air thinning and Lance has to admit he’s proud of how he’s schooled his face regardless of the sudden startle it’s surged because he definitely should’ve seen this coming.

But Keith’s not gonna hit him.

Not right this second.

Not in the bathroom.

At least...he doesn’t think he will.

So.

“Easy tiger,” Lance stays cool, hand raising before he can stop himself to land a couple pats to Keith’s cheek, “you don’t gotta try and impress me.”

And it’s in that moment he knows he fucked up. That exact moment, his back turning to him as he makes his way to the door, eyes closing in a silent knowing _‘fuck’_ that already has him bracing for the impact because Keith is on him in a fucking _second_ \- sending him forward and pushing him face-first into the cold metal of the door.

A groan is at the base of Lance’s throat but he doesn’t let it win - doesn’t let on and knows he totally brought this shit upon himself and the tingle of interest sparking from Keith’s lips at his ear as he says it is out of this world.

“Your mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.”

Because it’s very close, Lance’s entire body pressed firmly between the cold door and Keith’s warmth and _holy shit…_ he just can’t fucking help the smirk that dances across his own lips as he says it. “To be fair, my mouth’s also gotten me _out_ of trouble on occasion... ...if you know what I mean.”

The beat of silence that follows is _heavy._ Heavy heavy heavy. So fucking heavy that Lance is struggling to cope with his curiosity - can’t _not_ take his life into his own hands and turn his head a bit. Just to see the process. Just to see the interesting way Keith’s eyes are lowly scanning the open air in front of them. In...thought?

In...

...consideration?

Lance’s worst side of himself is raring to act up again but it’s snuffed out by the sudden eye contact - right back to how it’s supposed to be, Keith’s eyes now heavy-lidded with annoyance, rolling dismissively as he pulls away with a low murmur, his heat disappearing.

It’s a little bit of a Moment and Lance knows it. Can recognize it. Will probably think about it way more than he really needs to in the future but for right now, he needs to get out.

Needs to grab his bag and throw it over his shoulder.

Needs to not look back as he hears the spark of a lighter behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

So… Here’s the thing.

Keith’s a dick. That’s obvious. He’s a huge dick, but that doesn’t make him a badass like he thinks he is.

Yeah, he can fight. He has a good arm. He’d definitely beat the shit out of Lance without trying, but that’s not really saying anything because his French instructor could _also_ beat the shit out of him without trying. It’s just-...

Fuck, Lance wants to put him in his _place._

Wants to wipe that poser scowl off his face and take him down a few pegs.

Wants to-...

Wants to just-... _fuck him stupid._

But the opportunity is slim. Because Keith fucking hates him too.

Which is why it confuses Lance so much when it happens - when The Day of Reckoning is upon him and the midfielder and goalie come to make him answer for his “no balls” joke and he’s absolutely 100% sure that this is the day his nose gets broken and fucks up his Whole Look except - except the punch to the face never comes.

Or, it comes, but not for Lance.

And as he’s sitting there in the grass, flat on his ass and wind knocked out of his lungs from the blow to the stomach, it’s like some weird sorta mega-slow-motion Fight Club scene, the grey sky opening up above them as his defender’s arm swings like honey through its punch - one-on-two.

He…

...maybe...he doesn’t _hate_ Keith…

 

* * *

 

 

He hates Keith.

He hates Keith so fucking much.

If he hadn’t come to Lance’s side everything would be different. Lance would’ve gotten fucked up a little, wouldn’t have gotten in trouble, the soccer idiots still wouldn’t have gotten in trouble because they’re Untouchable Soccer Idiots, and everything would’ve just passed over.

But no.

Keith had to play the badass.

 _Had_ to get involved in a fight that had nothing to do with him because he was so fucking starved for it.

And _now_ look at them.

“This blows.” The mulch bag he’s dragging across the ground will definitely tear soon. And then what. _Fuck._ “I had plans.”

The bruise purpling around Keith’s eye is so visible in the golden hour that Lance almost feels bad. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been lounging against the brick wall they’re supposed to be stacking these bags against for half an hour now. That more than takes the guilt away.

“Ugh,” Lance groans, dropping the corner of the mulch bag to straighten his back and wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Crazy thought here but, why don’t you _fucking help me._ It’s your punishment too, ya know.”

He doesn’t get a response. Of fucking course not.

Fine then. He’ll just move _all these heavy bags by himself._

Ugh, manual labor. Easily a much worse fate than the detention hall. This shit’s bordering on corporal punishment, is it not? And he’s gotta do it all with Mr. Badass watching him. 0/10, please.

“So what’s your deal,” he grumbles, throwing Keith a pointed look as he drags the load across the ground in front of him. “Like...what’s your deep dark origin story that explains why you’ve got such a huge stick up your ass...”

The lift to stack it up on top of what he’s already done is not exactly something he loves to be doing with this morning’s fresh blow to the stomach. Especially not with Keith so clearly judging him not five feet away.

That’s fine, he’ll continue. “Or…” he supposes, slightly out of breath as he dusts his hands off, keeping the eye contact as he passes, “Do you have a stick up your ass because no one _else_ will stick anything up your ass…”

It’s a good theory. A valid theory. A theory that will either get him another punch to the stomach or absolutely no response at all.

He’s hoping for the latter.

And it’s the latter he gets.

Nothing but silence as he reaches the next bag, hands on his hips as he lets out a sigh while sizing it up.

Fuck.

Alright, one more time. “Dude seriously… Can you help so we can be done...?”

It’s a last try - a hail mary - an honest to god shock when the answer it gets is familiar silence, but with the added relief of Keith’s sneaker kicking lightly off the brick to come join him without a word.

It’s...so so so much easier with two people. So much lighter. A hold on both ends.

It frees Lance’s attention, dropping to something that’s been nagging at him for hours now. “Why’d you butt in this morning?”

“Why’re you such shit at throwing a punch?”

“Says the guy with the black eye.” It’s staring at him from across this bag of mulch, their steps matched as they carry it over to the wall. And Lance isn’t gonna let this one go. “For real though… Why’d you help me…?”

They swing it forward, watching as it joins the stack, Keith’s gaze remaining there when he says it. “Maybe I was curious.”

Even if Lance can’t help but look right at him. Because wait... He was...curious...? “About what?”

“How you handle.”

How he...

...what?

“What does that _mean?”_

Keith’s eyes fall back onto him, but there’s something different there… Something changed… “It means you handled like I thought you’d handle.”

And then he’s walking back to the pile to be moved.

And…

Lance’s hands fly out in front of himself in confusion. “What the hell does _that_ mean?” He knows it’s bad. He knows it’s fucking bad, it’s just - he wants to know exactly _how_ bad. And in what way. And- “Hey! Are you saying I can’t handle myself?”

Keith’s already crouching to lift his side of the bag. “Yourself… Other people…”

“I can handle other people.”

“You got knocked on your ass.”

“I could handle _you-”_

“If we fought, you’d-”

“I’m not _talking_ about fighting, you fucking idiot!”

Shit, that was a little too much. That definitely got away from him.

Lance swallows but keeps his glare - doesn’t back down because his confidence around this subject has only intensified with today’s issue. And it means he has a front seat to the little spark of connection and realization happening across from him and okay...he may have just ran at the mouth, but...that’s definitely a smirk on Keith’s face.

He’s-...

He’s smirking.

“That’s funny.”

“It’s _not_ funny.”

“It is, you-... You actually think you could. It’s hilarious.” Fuck, that amused little grin makes Lance wanna do some terrible things.

“Shut up - you have no idea-”

“Yeah,” he’s fucking laughing - dropping his end of the bag and reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes and walking back toward the wall and _oh, in that moment Lance sees red._

It happens in real-time. No slow motion. No movie scenes. Just Lance’s hands on Keith’s back and he’s shoving until they’re right up against the bricks - pressed tight - a perfect reflection of their brush in the bathroom only this time it’s Keith’s arrogant ass trapped between Lance and a hard place and _oh,_ that look of pleasant surprise that flashes in his eyes is unexpected and hot and _holy shit-_

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Keith’s still mouthy - still smirking but this time it’s amused in a different way. Challenging.

And Lance is more than up for the challenge, one of his hands dropping to immediately slide around over the crotch of Keith’s pants. _“Look_ like I’m kidding?”

If Keith feels anything, he keeps it hidden - stays stubborn - licks his lips and smiles, the side of his face still pressed to the brick, “Dunno… You always look like a joke to me…”

And this whole smiling side of him may be new for Lance, but he needs him to shut up - can’t fucking stand to hear his back talk - leans in even closer to bite at Keith’s neck, feeling his dick twitch in his pants as he lets out a sharp _‘ahh’_ in retaliation.

It’s music to Lance’s ears. A first step. A good jumping off point that pushes him to bite down harder - just hard enough - hard enough to feel Keith’s dick rising to the occasion under his hand.

“Finally you use that big mouth for something decent,” Keith continues, but it’s far breathier now - even through the tease.

And Lance can’t pass up the opportunity, mouth hovering at his neck, “Did I not say it gets me in good?”

If Keith has a comeback, Lance plucks it right away from him, his hand wasting no time in finding a quick, heavy rhythm as he rubs him through his uniform pants. But Keith doesn’t make a sound. It’s just his hands that come up, bracing himself against the brick and pushing backward just enough to be acting up and Lance cuts that shit out - uses his free hand to grab one of his wrists and twist it back to trap it between them.

Keith’s shoulder slams back into the brick but he doesn’t complain, propped off even now - other hand still braced against the wall. It’s an entertaining sight. The silent struggle. The clear battle between craving to come out on top like always but not lose the quick, heavy friction he’s getting from Lance’s hand. It’s far more entertaining than expected.

“You know…” Lance supposes, grin tugging and arm still working while he speaks lowly in his ear, “If we had what I needed, I’d swap that stick in your ass for something much better too.”

Because Keith’s hard where Lance has spread his legs apart with his thigh. And he’s not the only one. And-

“Get my bag.”

It’s an immediate and full body wave of warmth and excitement that it gives him. Even if-

“Seriously?” Lance has already scooped it up - kept Keith pressed to the wall and straightened again and there’s-... That’s definitely what he needs. Just right here in the front pouch of Keith’s bag. “Like...for real?”

“You’re not the only one who was supposed to have plans.”

That in itself is enough to have Lance stalling for a moment - the concept of this guy...just...

What, Keith’s out there getting fucked on the regular?

“Well there goes _my_ theory-”

“Just fucking do it.”

Right. Right - there’s no time to think about it now. Right now he’s just gotta focus on pressing the small bottle of lube into the hand he’s kept trapped between them, backing off for a moment but only so he can tear off a silver packet and get himself good to go too.

And okay, maybe one question.

“I gotta know who’s fucking you.”

“You don’t gotta know shit.”

Alright. Alright fine. Even if Keith’s sass loses a lot of fire when he’s got his hand shoved into the back of his pants like this.

“Just hurry up.”

“I’m already d-”

Lance cuts it off quick, the bottle dropping to the ground with how sharply he tugs Keith around - gets him spun - gets him nice and close and revels in the little groan he lets out as he’s bent over chest-down onto their stack of mulch bags.

It’s a groan but it’s not a complaint. Not with that pleased, heated grin that dances across his face from being handled.

He likes it.

He likes it _rough._

Oh yeah. That’s definitely not gonna be a problem for Lance.

Stepping up to fuck Keith from behind was never something he thought he’d actually get to do, and now that he’s here - now that he’s tugging the ass of his pants down just enough - his own too - it’s like an instant adrenaline rush pumping straight through his veins, Keith already making a fuss below him all the way until Lance lines himself up and-

And the first time is decently slow, because he may be aggressive but he’s not a monster - and that warmth... _fuck,_ it washes all over him again as he sinks his cock into him as deeply as he can go...like honey...like warm ocean waves...like-

...wait a second.

Hang on.

That’s right, he needs to put this stupid “badboy” in his place.

“You gonna do something, or ju- _uuuuhh-”_

Lance slams his hips forward, punching out that tasty moan that’s got Keith’s fist flying up to control.

It’s a sound he’s never heard from him. A sound he’d much rather hear than his usual tough-guy shit. A sound he chases after with tighter pitches forward - quick but controlled, his own pleasure rushing too.

And Keith’s unfortunately doing a way better job controlling his voice now - just that grin of pleasant surprise, eyes closed - like he didn’t think Lance could do it. Because he _didn’t_ think Lance can do it.

And yet here Lance is.

Doing it.

Motherfucker.

“Huh… Don’t seem to think it’s funny _now.”_ Oh yeah, he’s gonna milk this. “What happened?”

“Ah-...” the struggle doesn’t seem to embarrass Keith in the slightest. “...anyone can fire off for two minutes, idiot…” the bags of mulch shift inch by inch beneath him, “It’s about stamina…”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to chuckle, one of his hands lifting from the grip on Keith’s waist to slide up his spine and press down firmly on the back of his neck until his cheek is against the mulch. “Oh, I don’t think it’s gonna be me who’s ending it first.”

The chuckle he gets is unexpected and low and breathy and hot and _fuck_ does it send heat pooling to dangerous places.

And he may already be sweating, but he’s not about to stop - not about to let up his pace - hitting hard and hitting deep and keeping Keith pressed down tightly by the back of the neck.

He could absolutely cum now if he wanted to but he’s got a point to make. Has _had_ a point to make for like three years now. And he’s not gonna stop until he feels Keith squeezing around him - until those fingers have gripped into the bags below him so hard that he’s torn a hole and the mulch starts pouring out onto the ground.

He doesn’t stop.

He snaps his hips and he grits his teeth until Keith’s biting the collar of his uniform to shut himself up but really it’s Lance who’s doing it. It’s Lance who’s shutting him up. Who’s working him over and putting him in his place and _god_ he doesn’t know if that or fucking him feels better but it’s all coming to a point. And he’s so fucking high on adrenaline. And things are getting white-hot and Keith’s squeezing around him _tight_ \- forehead pressed against the mulch to hide his face as he cums but he can’t hide the growl from the back of his throat or the arch of his back.

But Lance doesn’t want him to hide it. He wants to know exactly how much he’s ruined him and he gets off to that shit - fingers grabbing maybe a little too hard and hands shaking maybe a little too much as he cums but _the fucking adrenaline is unreal._ And Keith just stays there and takes it - chest heaving - face hidden.

Even as Lance pulls out.

Takes a few steps back to admire his work.

Watches as Keith lets his top half slide off the mulch so he can drop into a crouch, hands bracing himself against it, back still to him.

He’s catching his breath - or trying to, at least - and once Lance is done basking in his own glory, he’ll do the same.

But for now, he’ll enjoy the moment, watching Keith’s hand drop to blindly roam along the ground beside him, in search of…

Lance lets out a huff of a chuckle, scooping up the carton of cigarettes he had knocked from that hand at the very start of this, his grin only growing wider when he brings it over to Keith, the way it’s snatched from his hand forever changed.

“Easy there, tiger.”

Because he can see the mulch ground under Keith’s fingernails from where he was gripping into the bag.

Yeah, Lance is thinking a lot of shit between them is gonna be different now.

  


* * *

 


	12. Easy, Tiger. [Pt. 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Easy, Tiger. Part Two.**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,328 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith still thinks he's a badass, even with Lance fucking him into place on the regular. But Lance is just gonna go with the flow until something happens. And then something happens.  
>  **Additional Tags:** private boy's school au, classclown!lance, badboy!keith, uniforms, rough sex, top lance, cigarette smoking, alcohol, slow burn feelings
> 
> please read [Part One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867456/chapters/43022543) first
> 
> ✨for @anxiousreader's request! ✨

“Hhh... _fuck-...”_

The bathroom stall door rattles on its hinges as Keith hangs on for dear life.

It’s not exactly their quietest hookup to date, but it’s definitely their quickest and it doesn’t even matter because they’ve got the freestanding building of restrooms all to themselves.

Lance’s horniness levels have been off the charts lately, his belt buckle clanking with every snap of his hips into where Keith’s sandwiched between him and the pale green door. He’s completely aware of the fact that it’s all because of him. It’s no mystery that he now lives for that eye-contact across the courtyard - lives for the game of deciphering the intent behind it - the thrill of watching him pat out his cigarette and turn to wherever he’s trying to get Lance to follow.

It’s not all the time. It’s not an everyday thing. But when it happens - when the angsty staring is more than just angsty staring...woo boy…

_“Hnn…”_

The growl at the back of Keith’s throat is strangled. Heated. Lights Lance up in the best fucking way, the grin dancing across his sweaty face unable to be tamed.

“You like that, short stuff?”

He knows it’s gonna get him some sort of retaliation but it’s worth it. Especially with how clearly Keith _is_ enjoying it - even if he doesn’t say it out loud. Because he’s gripping so tightly - white knuckling the top edge of the stall door. And Lance can feel the tingles of pleasure starting to swirl nice and deep in his own belly - has to sacrifice a hand to pull his tie loose from around his neck - swallows a moan he doesn’t care to see the light of day and fucks into Keith until it all starts rushing over him.

He cums first… Buries himself as deeply as he can in Keith’s tight warmth and lets his eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of him clenching around him - getting off too - always a breathy growl that’s right on brand for him - still pretty hot given the fact that it’s Lance who just punched the orgasm out of him.

But holy shit, does that take a lot of energy.

Lance lets out a long breath, still trying to catch it as he slumps forward against Keith, body both lit up and drained at the same time.

He’d offer a smartass comment, but right now a lot of his energy is focused on taking in air. That, and how the body in front of him is starting to ever so slightly slip down the door, Lance’s own pretty much keeping him upright. But-

“Get off.” Keith’s shrugging him off, his shoulder actually packing a decent amount of strength - enough to get Lance stumbling back.

But it’s fine. It’s whatever.

Keith’s zipper pulls and belt clinks and the door snaps open without another word from him, Lance left to catch his breath in the stall by himself.

But it’s fine.

It’s whatever.

 

* * *

 

 

On Thursday he has cheer practice.

He has cheer practice and it’s all very cheery and practice-y and they’re actually finally nailing the lift that Pidge convinced their coach they should do and it’s all so very wonderful that Lance isn’t even freaked out by the extra pair of eyes on him...watching...lurking in the shadow cast by the side of the bleachers.

He’s not freaked out but he’s definitely aware of them.

Definitely familiar with being on the receiving end of them.

Just not here.

But he goes over another lift with Pidge, their foot propelling off his cupped hands at the right time to shoot them skyward. Or...at least...kinda skyward enough to get them up on his and Kinkade’s shoulders. And it’s a damn good thing Pidge decided to join because they’d never be able to do this with someone not Pidge-sized.

Anyway, that’s all Lance has to use his attention for. The move. Keeping Pidge up. Not what’s happening further away - not who’s lounging against the bleacher’s frame, earbuds in and hands in his pockets but eyes watching.

Watching Lance watch him, white uniform shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up because that’s the least of administration’s worries about him.

Lance wants to roll his eyes at the cliché of it all but there’s that little nagging thing inside that won’t let him look away.

“Hey.” Kinkade’s voice does it though, everything coming back to present when he says it. “Maybe try focusing.”

Lance has to make a joke. “Sounds scary and new but I’ll give it a try.”

Has to cover it up.

Has to give one more glance over to the bleachers before crouching into the next position.

 

* * *

 

A week goes by.

And a little more.

The soccer team still hates his fucking guts but they’re not actively trying to break his legs anymore.

He hooks up with Keith behind the greenhouse on Tuesday and then the regularly scheduled Avatar Aangst staring recommences.

But it’s fine. It’s whatever. Sometimes you just gotta brood and stare across the courtyard without the intent of getting fucked within an inch of your life, he guesses. And anyway, it gives Lance’s dick a rest too - a concept he never thought he’d accept into his life.

But that was before all this.

And yeah, maybe he’s still watching closely. Maybe he might be a little addicted to pushing Keith back down a few tiers and putting him in his place. Maybe he’s still a little curious about who Keith was all geared to hook up with that late afternoon they were stuck stacking mulch. Like...it’s not his business but, do they do it the same way? Get Keith’s knees to give out like him? Lance wants to know. _Has_ to know.

So when he sees Keith headed off campus Wednesday night - in dark street clothes and his bag flung over his shoulder - he has no other option but to follow.

There’s no gameplan.

No “if this - then this”.

He just follows, far enough behind that he doesn’t bring attention to himself, all the way until they reach the stairs that lead under an unfamiliar bridge.

It’s a classic hookup spot, he guesses. Or a place to get murdered, with how secluded it is. Either way, Keith belongs here, it’s just…

Lance waits…and waits…and waits, hidden behind the base of the bridge’s stairs. The moon is almost full - almost paints Keith like watercolor where he stands in the sloping grass, eyes fallen to the slow-moving river a few yards in front of him.

If he’s meeting someone, they’re not here. Or they’re not coming. Or…

Or there never was someone to meet in the first place…

The moonlight glints off the small glass bottle Keith pulls from his backpack, his cigarette held casually between his lips as he tosses his bag onto the grass.

And…

He’s…

Lance lets out a short breath.

Seriously? Keith’s just here to get shitfaced by himself? He followed him all the way here for _that?_ Talk about a waste of time. Un _less…_

The moonlight feels eerie on Lance’s skin as he emerges from his hiding spot - like he shouldn’t be here - but it’s far too late for that now, and he’s thinking he can definitely weasel some whiskey out of this situation if he just-

_snap!_

Keith’s sudden attention on him is startling, but not nearly as startling as the pocket knife produced out of nowhere clicking open and held at his side like it’s second nature and-

“Whoa whoa,” Lance contains it, hands flying out in front of himself, “Easy, tiger. Just me.”

Stupid twig.

The way Keith’s face immediately falls from keen _“I’ll fucking carve your heart from your chest”_ to just plain confusion is almost funny. If it wasn’t for the fact that it clearly means he doesn’t see Lance as a threat. Just an annoyance.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Lance crosses his arms. “The fuck are _you_ doing?” Waits for the knife to be lowered and loses. “I mean c’mon, man. This whole setup? How angsty can you _get?”_

Because now Keith’s just frowning. “How’d you even get here?”

“Followed you.”

_“Why.”_

“Tryna even out the whole ‘who’s stalking who’ ratio.”

Keith allows himself one more moment of thought - clear, honest to god brain work - before shaking his head, pocket knife clicking shut without looking as he turns back to the river. “...fuck’s sake…”

It’s under his breath but Lance can hear it.

And he can also appreciate the bottle of whiskey Keith’s bending down to retrieve from the grass. “Since I’m here…”

Keith really has every right to stab him and the fact that he isn’t does not go unnoticed. Lance would just like to note that. And also note that the way he sits with a little huff of annoyance could be considered cute if Lance was trying to consider stuff cute right now.

But he’s not.

He’s got something else he’s working for.

Several long minutes go by before Keith finally hands the bottle over, Lance wondering if maybe he should just leave.

But then the whiskey kicks in. Hugs his brain. Greets him like a long lost friend that the school’s been beating away from him with a stick. Keith must drink off campus for the sake of his brother or something - just to give him one less thing he has to invoke his Counselor Duties for.

But now they’re off campus.

They’re free.

They can sit here in the moonlight and do whatever the hell they want.

Lance takes another sip, the liquid glistening so prettily that he takes an extra second before tipping the bottle back down. It’s not exactly the best taste on his tongue but his head likes it. And his tingling fingers like it. And the warm, pleasant swirling in his stomach is nice.

He definitely gets why someone would come here.

The river moves slowly in front of them, barely making noise - a peaceful backdrop to the crackle of burning paper as Keith takes a drag… His slow breath out…

It’s calming… Has Lance turning his head, eyes roaming over where Keith watches the water flow...lids heavy...circles dark under his eyes…lit in a warm glow with every hit of his cigarette…

He’s generally, at the heart of it all, a pretty attractive guy.

That’s always been true.

It’s just his attitude.

But everything else…

Lance’s eyes trail over the cigarette caught between his lips, hands busy slowly picking the dirt from under his nails. And for a moment, his body moves on its own, fingers reaching out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth.

It gets him a breath of curiosity, “You smoke…?”

All for Lance to cut quickly without a smile, “Nope,” snuffing the cherry out on the ground next to him.

But Keith’s on the move - protesting - brows etched together in aggravation as he reaches over Lance’s lap to try to save it but it’s too late - it’s done - and Lance is trapping his hand anyway, pressing it to the grass so they’re stuck together - energy buzzing - just enough space to lean in and-

Keith’s free hand holds him off in an instant. Solid on Lance’s collarbone. Just short of where his pulse is taking off in his chest because he-... They don’t ever kiss, but…

Keith swallows thickly, lips parted, eyes glossy where they’re dancing between Lance’s.

Something’s happening.

Something in Keith’s brain.

Something in Lance’s chest.

Something in both of them and he really doesn’t want to address it right now because all he wants to do is-

...is feel Keith’s defense lighten…feel his hand back off the push…watch his gaze drop to Lance’s mouth...tongue hesitantly wetting his lips...

Something is happening.

In Keith’s brain.

In Lance’s chest.

Something in both of them and Lance is using the given space to push forward, slotting his mouth against Keith’s maybe too harshly because Keith’s letting it happen but then that pressure is back on his collarbone - holding him off again - heavy breath as he _stares_ at his mouth because _something is happening._ In his brain. In Lance’s chest.

And he expects to be shoved to the ground but what he gets is Keith - his mouth - pressing but not pressing like he really knows he wants to be pressing so Lance helps him. Kisses him back. Lets go of the wrist he has pinned to the ground and puts the weight back onto Keith, tongue gliding over his.

And there’s this incredible energy. This-...this _buzzing_ in Lance’s chest as Keith kisses him back because _something is happening!_ Something is happening and he doesn’t know what because all they’re doing is making out but somehow that’s big and different and worthy of the buzz and Lance brings his hands up - slips them over Keith’s shoulders and up his neck and holds him and-

His back hits the ground before he can even process what’s happening - before his brain even registers the hands shoving him away.

He lands with a groan and a little bit of a wince but in his peripherals he can see Keith pushing to his feet, stuffing the whiskey in his bag and it’s dark but Lance doesn’t miss how he drags his tongue of his bottom lip like he’s-...maybe-...

...ugh...

Lance lets out a breath, head falling back into the grass so he can close his eyes.

He should’ve expected it.

He’s gotta figure out exactly what was the line-crosser.

But he doesn’t have that long to process, the grass crunching under Keith’s boots as he stalks away without a word forcing him to move.

Or, at least, whine.

“Waaait, I dunno how to get back.”

He expects the curt tone. He expects the attitude. What he doesn’t expect...is the barely-there huff of a chuckle, almost too quiet to hear before he says it.

“Don’t fucking follow me in the first place then.”

 

* * *

 


	13. Easy, Tiger. [Pt. 3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Easy, Tiger. Part Three.**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Summary:** Keith still thinks he's a badass, even with Lance fucking him into place on the regular. But Lance is just gonna go with the flow until something happens. And then something happens.  
> Additional Tags: private boy's school au, classclown!lance, badboy!keith, uniforms, rough sex, top lance, cigarette smoking, alcohol, slow burn feelings
> 
> please read Part One and Part Two first!

Lance is leprosy.

Lance is the plague and Keith is avoiding him like it.

Even the angsty staring across the courtyard has been drastically cut - whittled away to a mere split-second hold that breaks off as soon as Lance meets it.

And he’s not  _ insulted,  _ per se… It’s just… 

He knows why. Knows exactly why it’s happening and that’s somehow more aggravating than  _ not  _ knowing. Because if he didn’t know, he could chalk it up to Keith’s normal piece-of-shit attitude. If he didn’t know, the whole thing could be shrugged off and ignored and  _ whatever.  _

But he does. 

He does know.

And what’s worse is he can’t deny that he’s in the exact same boat.

Because fuck feelings, right?

 

* * *

 

 

It’s fine. 

It’s good.

The only real issue here is that Lance suddenly isn’t getting it in on the regular and oh, his body does  _ not  _ like that.

But it’s fine.

It’s good.

It’s whatever, really.

Fuck feelings, right?

Right.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks pass. 

Two and a half.

Three weeks tick by and Lance would feel  _ real stupid  _ about just how poorly his dick is taking to this sudden drought if he couldn’t see the mirrored sentiment staring right back at him from the alcove in the courtyard.

Because Keith’s crabby.

_ Crabby  _ crabby.

And that’s not really any of Lance’s concern, especially given the fact that he’s personally laid eyes on him sneaking off campus with his backpack multiple times these past weeks. 

Because he’s getting dicked down. Keith. Someone’s out there fucking him like damn-near clockwork and yet-...

And yet here he is. 

Staring… Eyes hooded… No longer breaking away when Lance meets his gaze.

It’s both none of Lance’s concern and all his brain wants to focus on.

 

* * *

 

 

Thursday.

Cheer practice.

Kinkade almost drops Pidge.

Recover.

Shower.

Routine routine routine and Lance just makes it behind the small building of bathroom stalls when it happens - when the presence emerges out of nowhere and zeroes in and the brick is rough against his spine as he’s slammed back into it and-

_ “Fuck-” _ it gasps out of him a little, brows furrowing more in annoyance than anything despite the little spark of excitement that runs through him but-  _ “Use your words.” _

Because Keith is right up on him. Right here, about to make him answer for that night by the river because it got a little out of control and  _ fuck  _ feelings, right - but: “Fuck me.”

Lance blinks, furrowed brows raising because they’re way too close to hear wrong and- “Oh.” way too close to not accidentally glance down at his frown and- “Alright.” way too close to not at least  _ think about it  _ but-

But he’s getting pulled into the bathroom before he has to deal with that. Before he has to scramble up a thought to share with the class. 

The door slams behind him and he’s not 100% it gets locked but Keith is about ten steps past that already - condom shoved to Lance’s chest to deal with and belt clinking as he undoes his pants and  _ holy shit yes. Okay  _ hell  _ yes Lance is so fucking ready for this.  _ So ready he doesn’t even have to touch himself - just tears the wrapper and rolls on the condom and is barely done spitting on it when Keith’s right there -  _ ready  _ \- pressed against the sink without a moment to spare and when Lance sinks in - when he bottoms out like his life depends on it - the fucking look that washes over Keith’s face in the mirror - eyes shut tight, jaw tensed but mouth dropped open like Lance’s cock has punched the breath out of him and he’s finally gotten what he needs… Holy shit, it’s a sight to fucking see.

And Lance feeds off it. Fucking pitches his hips forward, hands gripping Keith’s waist and pulling him back into it tight. It’s what he’s been missing in his life these past three weeks. The rush of adrenaline. The waves of full-body pleasure. The sound of Keith biting through his moans - angry with it - heated. It’s what he’s been missing. And apparently he’s not the only one.

“Other guys not doin’ it for ya?” Lance can’t help the smirk. Can’t help the insane surge of cockiness that sweeps through him as he fucks into Keith just short of too hard. “Not the same?”

He’s breathy but not as breathy as the boy under him, one hand gripping the edge of the sink, the other steadying himself around the neck of the faucet, “S-... So full of yourself…” body lurching forward as he finally drops his head to the counter. “...full’a shit…”

And it may be true. This situation might make Lance’s ego inflate in the worst way but  _ come on.  _ It has to be why this is happening - why Keith finally gave up his stubborn fight - even just for one day. It’s gotta be. 

And Lance is totally on board with that, all his pent up  _ everything  _ flowing from him like his life depends on it, one hand moving from Keith’s waist to slide firmly up his spine and keep his head pressed to the counter by the back of his neck - the perfect leverage to lean forward and fuck him deeper. 

It has Keith’s eyes rolling in the back of his head. Has him losing it for a moment. No walls. No faces. Just indulgence. The true satisfaction of getting what he wants.

Lance can feel it work its way down his own body - inevitable - sooner than he’d hoped but it’s been bottled up for weeks now and really, what can you expect?

_ “Fuck…” _ Sharp breath - sweat gathering at his hairline - pleasure pooling and heating and tipping over for good at the feeling of Keith tightening around him and  _ fuck - fuck fuck fuck- _

It’s black-out worthy. 

Has his entire core shaking.

Pulls out the most A-1 First Page Pornhub moan that’s ever left his body and it’d be impressive if he wasn’t absolutely sure the lord himself just heard it up on high.

It’d be the perfect opportunity for Keith to give him shit. To call him out on it and make it a recurring taunt but-

But Keith’s having his own troubles. Just fucking...sinks into a crouch, head buried in his crossed arms against the edge of the sink much like their first time against the mulch bags.

He’s catching his breath. 

Regaining focus.

Not even paying attention to Lance, who’s backed up far enough to slump against the side of a stall and avoid making eye contact with himself in the mirror.

Because his body’s happy. His  _ body’s happy.  _ But…

Lance swallows thickly, chest still heaving as he chucks the condom into the trash and zips his pants back up. 

He doesn’t  _ want  _ to pursue it right this instant, but he’s not sure if Keith’s going to slip back into avoiding him after this. And like-... Okay... He’ll just use the opportunity now that his dick is happy at least.

“So,  _ question-” _

“No.”

Lance frowns. Watches Keith gather himself, back to him as he zips his pants as well. He knows it’s not the best environment to discuss that Thing that happened at the river but, “We’re  _ really  _ not gonna talk about it-”

“No.”

The faucet squeaks off, Keith’s face still dripping from the cool water he’s doused himself in as he turns - nothing else - no eye contact - just runs a hand down from his forehead and pushes out of the bathroom, leaving Lance to stand there, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Cool.” 

They definitely didn’t lock the door.

 

* * *

 

Whatever.

It’s whatever.

It’s  _ fine. _

Fuck feelings, right?

 

* * *

 

 

He’s not ignored. Lance. Keith doesn’t ignore him after. Or, well-... 

The regularly scheduled stare-downs recommence. But they don’t hook up. Maybe because it’s Friday and then the next couple days are off and it’s pretty normal for them to have their own lives during that stretch of time. 

Lance isn’t going to overthink it because it won’t solve anything. It’ll just work him up for no reason. And anyway he’s definitely getting over it. “It”. The “Thing”. It was just kissing and Lance is grown and shit like that doesn’t have to mean anything if he doesn’t want it to.

And he doesn’t want it to.

So it doesn’t.

He’s over it.

100%.

 

* * *

 

 

Except. Keith kissed him back, so. 

 

* * *

 

Saturday night.

Later than he’s usually out.

The walk back from his friend’s off-campus apartment is long but quiet. And peaceful. Open-air space to think or not think or both, the moon peeking out from behind somehow the only cloud in the sky.

The dorm building is in sight - home sweet home - bed sweet bed - one last corner to turn when he sees him, coming from the opposite direction, hands stuffed in his pockets and hood up but not shadowed enough to hide it.

Lance’s pace falters, frown at the ready because: “Fuck  _ happened  _ to you?” But his question goes unanswered, Keith not even looking at him as he continues on his way and turns to head toward the dorm building despite Lance’s more pointed, “Hello?”

It’s just the crunch of the path under his boots, not hurried but also not letting up until Lance is huffing, Keith’s wrist in his clutches and  _ forcing  _ him to.

He’s not happy about it. 

_ “What.” _

Lance doesn’t particularly care. “‘What’? You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not the thing to say. Gets Keith to twist out of his hold like that and continue on his way.

He’s not happy.

But now neither is Lance.

“Fucking-... Hang  _ on.”  _ Another grab - path crunching - fabric rustling - Keith’s jaw clenched as he’s whipped back around for a second time. “Can you stop being dramatic for like  _ two fucking seconds…” _

He can’t. He can’t and they both know that and Lance doesn’t actually expect him to get his head out of his own ass but the least he can do is not act like he’s being cuffed and printed. Especially not by Lance. Especially when all he wants to do is-

“Let’s go.”

Keith’s strong but so is Lance. “No.”

“Yes.”

“It’s fine-”

“Let’s  _ go-” _

“Where are you even-”

“I wanna fucking help you, okay!” 

He shouts it. 

Doesn’t mean to. 

...kinda means to.

...does...mean to...

He means to shout it but he doesn’t like the way it sounds anymore. Doesn’t like the way it tangles up his guts. Doesn’t like how weird his chest feels when Keith’s anger dissolves into something  _ less  _ angry and more-... More something.  _...something. _ ...something’s happening-

“Let’s go.”

Keith lets himself be led this time. Doesn’t make a fuss. Follows but doesn’t say a word even as Lance is letting go to unlock his room and they’re silently sealing themselves away in the tiny bathroom.

Hunk’s asleep and he wants to keep it that way.

Wants to turn the light on but is afraid of too many things.

Pulls out the antiseptic and the bandages that his mother insisted on him bringing and then turns to where Keith is silently waiting...gaze elsewhere...even as Lance reaches up to gently pull his hood off, his hair mussed softly from it.

The bathroom night-light is dim, but he doesn’t need much to assess the damage.

The purpling start of a black eye…

A small cut at the bridge of his nose… 

One high on his cheek…

Lance swallows thickly - way too loud in his ears - breath just a little too uneven.

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t expect an answer and doesn’t get one. Just starts with the antiseptic, squeezing a bit on the pad of his pointer finger to gently rub over the broken skin below his eye. 

Quietly - so quietly, as he moves on: “Nose isn’t broken, is it...?”

Keith hasn’t looked at him once. “Mm-mm.”

“Good.”

The air between them is thick and getting thicker. Makes it hard to breathe like a normal person. Hard to stay calm.

He unwraps the small adhesive strip bandages that he’s never had to use before and holds his breath as he places them over the cuts the way he  _ thinks  _ they’re supposed to go. Maybe... Hopefully... Either way...it can’t-...

Lance’s chest stutters as those eyes, finally and without warning, settle over to lock with his.

They’re tired. 

And... _ something... _

And he’s too close.

Lance swallows again, breaking away to toss the bandage wrappers in the trash can. But it’s only so long. And only so far - not even a full step away before he’s right back in it again, air too thick.

And-...

God. 

God fucking damn it.

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper for fear of waking. “You know...? We were-...”

“...drinking,” Keith finishes. Blessedly. On the same page.

It’s almost enough to have Lance sighing in relief. The conversation finally happening. “Yeah. We weren’t thinking.”

“It wasn’t-...”

“Yeah.” He gets it. “It wasn’t-... Uh...”

They’re still way too close and every inch of Lance’s body is fully aware of it.

“We won’t do that.” Keith mumbles. Puts them back on track.

“Right.” Right. “Yeah.”

But they’re very close.

“We don’t need to get all-...”

“Yeah-”

“You know.”

“Yeah.” Lance’s heart is going to explode out of his chest. “Just hooking up is fine.”

“Mhm.”

“I just wanna hook up.”

“Yeah - me too.”

Lance nods, pulse in his throat. “So we won’t do that.” 

“Just hooking up.”

“Just hooking up.”

It’s settled. Keith nods as well, voice low. “Okay.”

But Lance can only focus on how that gaze drops down to his lips. Stalling time. Plucking at every heartbeat in his chest as he answers it...a whisper... “Okay.”

Because…

...because fuck feelings…

...right?

The box of bandages clatters to the floor as they meet halfway, mouths hungry and chasing and Lance is so fucking sure he’s about to faint but he’s got a hold around Keith’s neck. And Keith’s pulling him in tighter. And a hand is snaking up his throat but he loves it and bites back and it’s true what they say about kissing people who smoke.

But he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care - he doesn’t care - he doesn’t care because  _ his chest is doing that ‘something’ and he likes it.  _

He likes it.

And Keith likes it. 

And he-...

He likes…Keith.

He likes Keith.

_ He likes Keith. _

 

* * *

 


	14. Supernova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Supernova**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 3,285 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith gets hit by a pheromone intended to help repopulate a planet's endangered species. The only thing endangered is his ability to keep his cool around Lance.  
>  **Additional Tags:** sex pollen, power bottom keith, sexual tension! :D, keith and lance know the other one is attracted to them but haven't done anything about it because they're them
> 
> ✨ for @casualallura's request! thank you! :D ✨

Pidge warns him.

“Watch out around the pheromones,” she said.

“Seriously, they’re only students,” she said.

So Keith’s exercising due caution now - approaching the struggling young alien who hasn’t even made it out into the field yet - their duel inspection of her malfunctioning pheromone sprayer yielding no immediate results.

Because Keith doesn’t exactly know what he’s looking for, every other students’ working just fine as they mist the surrounding buffalo-looking animals as instructed. 

But he’s supposed to be here to help. To aid. To watch over the first step of repopulating this planet’s endangered species. So there’s nothing he can really do but _try,_ leaning in to match the student’s inquisitive lever-toggling because maybe if they just force it it’ll-

_puuuff~ff~ff~ff_

Keith straightens, head whipping up and the eyes staring straight back at him just as wide and just as surprised and _what the fuck-_

“Oh no-”

“What-... Is this bad?” He’s not yelling but he’s very close to freaking out.

Even as she continues to gawk at him, the purple mist dissolving around them - but by now it’s far too late. “Please don’t tell my professor!” 

Keith has to keep his cool - would have a way easier time doing that if she wasn’t currently _running away, mister in hand and-_

“Are we gonna be okay?” he calls out. 

But she’s already so far away, a blip on the horizon line, voice echoing: “Please don’t tell!”

And Keith is-

Keith just-

…

Okay.

Alright.

He’ll be fine, he tells himself, straightening enough to gain outward composure as the rest of the students spray away, completely unaware.

He’ll be fine.

Despite inhaling a healthy amount of alien pheromone, he feels completely normal. Just gotta keep an eye on it.

Yeah.

He’ll be fine.

 

_ _ _

 

By hour five, Keith still hasn’t noticed any changes. Normal vitals. Normal temperature. Normal everything.

Because he would’ve felt something by now, right? Those pheromones were for animals three times his size. They were for _mating._ And Keith definitely doesn’t feel like mating. So…

He must be in the clear.

 

_ _ _

 

It’s like...hour eight or something but Keith doesn’t really give a shit anymore. He would, he thinks, normally give a shit - but it’s hard to care when this sloshy green drink is going down so easily. 

They’re at a nearby tavern. At a small standing table with a couple locals that recognize him and Lance and start off a conversation that’s not necessarily interesting, but comes with free drinks. 

So.

Keith accepts. Tips the long, tube-like glass to the ceiling and lets the liquid drain into his mouth because it’s a little more...let’s say “thick”...than the alcoholic drinks Keith’s used to downing back home. But they taste good. Kind of like those earthy protein shakes Lance turned him onto. So why not?

“And then Hunk just freakin’ _blasted_ through it like a boss,” (speaking of Lance), “Right, Keith?”

The attention suddenly falling onto him has Keith nodding - has this interesting sort of itch work its way up from his legs as he meets Lance’s eye contact. 

“Yeah.” He has no idea what they’re talking about. “Classic Hunk.” 

But it’s got Lance smiling - dimples - lights reflecting in his eyes as he turns his attention back to the locals. 

He’s always so good at that. Always so good at carrying the conversation and slipping Keith’s otherwise socially awkward ass in every now and then. Especially now that they’re so cool with each other - off their bullshit almost entirely.

Keith shifts his weight where he stands. Glass almost empty. Doesn’t realize he hasn’t moved his attention away until those eyes are locking back in. 

Only this time there’s something else glinting there. Guarded confusion. Flicking from Keith down to where his own arm is resting on the table and where he’s-

Keith frowns. 

Lifts his hand away.

Doesn’t...remember…-

The locals continue their story across the table like nothing’s happened. Like Keith didn’t just have a total out-of-body experience.

When the hell did he start touching Lance’s forearm?

His almost empty glass would be explanation enough if it wasn’t the weakest drink he’s ever chugged down. Because Keith’s not even tipsy. So what the fuck?

Next to him, Lance has hopped back into the conversation. _Not_ like nothing ever happened but because he’s good like that. And he’s polite like that - more smiling - more dimples - corners of his mouth curling as he takes a drink and then slips his tongue over his bottom lip.

The energy radiating upward in Keith’s body sharpens… Gets almost electric… Has him tapping his fingers on the table - stopping when it draws Lance’s attention - starting up again - a split-moment decision because he _wants_ Lance’s attention, doesn’t he? 

He does.

He definitely does with the way Lance’s eyes are flicking back up to him again, brows etched together but the creeping grin unable to hide his very real entertainment.

Keith meets it. Quietly smirks back. Lets the energy rush up and down inside him and wills Lance’s hand to come down on top of his to stop the tapping.

But it doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

And Keith guesses he’s okay with that, but only because that curious grin doesn’t disappear when Lance looks away. 

Maybe if he stands closer.

Another drink gets put in front of Keith but it’s far from being a priority right now. Because he needs to move. Needs to touch. Kind of wants something in his mouth but there aren’t any straws or toothpicks or anything so he has to forget about that. Has to focus on something else. Has to feel the rush in his chest and how it sinks in him so warmly and pleasantly as he watches Lance’s throat work when he takes another drink.

It’s hot in here.

It’s hot.

It’s hot and Keith’s hot and Lance is-... 

Fuck, Lance is super hot, isn’t he...?

Keith’s moment of introspection is cut short by the body colliding into his from behind - a mistake - a misstep - a miscalculation in a crowded tavern but it has him pressing forward - bumps him right up into Lance’s space and Lance’s smell and Lance’s look of surprise and his _hand’s on Keith’s lower back - a misstep - a miscalculation - a mistake that sets the energy in Keith’s body on fire because they’re pressed so close and fuck he wants to-_

Keith stumbles away. Has a brief moment of sense. Fucking hates himself for doing it and misses how Lance excuses them from the locals because he’s got that hand on him again - “Can I talk to you for a sec?” - on his shoulder - warm and directing him away and what if it slid up Keith’s neck and slipped into his hair and-

“Keith.”

He blinks.

They’re in a hallway.

Dark and still crowded but away from the table and Lance looks so good staring at him in this light that Keith could fucking ruin their friendship so _easily-_

“Keith - dude. What the hell’s going on?”

He has to focus. Has to blink again because everything’s kinda gone hazy. Everything except for Lance. And those big, pretty eyes. And _fuck...that mouth-_

“Seriously, man - are you feelin’ okay?”

Keith presses forward to accommodate the movement of people behind him. Frowns a little because that’s not what he wants him to be saying right now. “I’m fine.” Perfect speech.  

“Alright…” Lance doesn’t sound convinced. Has that head tilt of quiet disbelief and Keith doesn’t exactly remember when he put his hands on him but his chest feels so strong and warm under his palms - rumbles when Lance’s tone turns teasing but cautious. “You’re just…- I’ve never _...seen_ you like this before.”

“Like what.”

“Flirty.”

Keith draws his hands away. Or...tries to? But he doesn’t want to - he wants to feel him. “Fuck off.”

“No, like - you are _so flirty_ right now, man.” Another rumble - buzzing under Keith’s touch - careful but playful and - “Wait.” - Keith wants to kiss him - “Hang on, are you drunk?”

Keith wants to kiss him, Keith wants to kiss him, Keith wants to kiss him.

He’s not drunk but he wants to kiss him and he’s flirty but he’s _not drunk_ so it has to be-

...oh.

Oh fuck, he knows _exactly_ what it is.

“I have to leave.” He’s adamant but he’s also not moving. Can’t pull himself away. Is far from unfamiliar with the creeping feelings of wanting Lance but this isn’t the way it’s supposed to go, so: “I can’t be here right now.”

And Lance looks like he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to _deal with him_ but it’s okay because Keith can take control. Because he wants to press close. Wants to touch. Wants to _kiss him_ so he’s just gonna _-_

“Whoa-” the hands on Keith’s shoulders send heat spiraling downward but not in the way he wants. Because they’re keeping him off. Keeping him away. And Lance’s eyes are wide enough to see the lights in again as he struggles to speak. “Uh…”

He’s honest to god stunned and it’s enough of a kick to the stomach for Keith’s sense to trickle in - just enough - a single dawning of realization like at the table and he’s pulling away again. “Shit - uh-...” heat pooling but attention elsewhere - “I’m drunk. I gotta go.”

And he misses the look on Lance’s face and misses his chest under his fingertips but he has to keep walking. Has to get out.

Has to get himself away from Lance before he fucks everything up.

 

_ _ _

 

Pidge warned him.

“Watch out around the pheromones,” she said.

Well, he sure got himself into it anyway, didn’t he?

Because Keith wants to fucking die - sweat collecting on his brow as he grits through a jerk-off that only keeps the heat at bay for a couple hours.

Then it’s swirling right back around, like clockwork. 

And he’s got so many more important things to worry about than getting off but-

But here he is. 

Turned on beyond belief.

One very specific person always waiting for him behind his eyelids when he gives into the heat in his stomach.

“Watch out around the pheromones,” Pidge said.

She warned him.

 

_ _ _

 

It’s been two days and Keith continues to fight but it’s a losing battle, the fire and constant tingle of interest inside him drawing him to a point whether he likes it or not.

Because he can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t be touched without danger signs flashing like crazy in his head so he really doesn’t mean it but it happens anyway - the miscalculation - the misstep - Keith leaving the communications deck while Lance is coming in and the run-in has hands on Keith where he _wants them_ \- where he _desperately desperately needs them_ but it’s overwhelming - has his eyes slamming shut and muscles tensing against the rush of endorphins and he _really doesn’t mean it_ but Lance gets shoved off of him and into the wall just the same.

 _“Fuck_ dude-”

“Sorry.” Keith can’t see him - eyes closed, eyes closed, eyes closed. Because if he doesn’t look at Lance then he doesn’t see all the parts of him he wants to touch and kiss and _bite_ and-

“Hang on,” the hand on him has his pulse skyrocketing, has his eyes opening because Lance isn’t mad - he’s concerned. “Keith, you’re burning up - what the fuck?”

No one else is around. The hallway is gloriously, dangerously empty and the liquid fire that Lance’s hand spreads as he feels Keith’s forehead already has his eyes fluttering shut again.

“Lance…” 

 _Stop,_ he wants to say. _Don’t stop_ \- more like - because he can’t even stop _himself_ from leaning into it when that hand slides down to rest against his neck. It’s setting off pleasure points. Has Keith’s heart skipping beats where he’s trying so very hard to control his breathing but _fuck._ He wants.

But he shouldn’t - not like this - and he swears to god he doesn’t mean it but all his senses are on fire and the shove off is way too hard. Way too mean.

Has Lance’s concern growing aggravated and pissed and _no no no -_ “The _fuck,_ Keith? What the hell’s your problem lately?”

And Keith is just _so done._ Just _so frustrated._ Just-...God, just _so fucking horny he doesn’t know what to do with himself -_ “I got hit!” - he snaps, breath too heavy and tone too clipped - “I got hit with the fucking pheromones, okay?”

And maybe it’s a good thing that he’s too turned on to be embarrassed - to be mortified like he fucking should - because it keeps him moving. It keeps his steps purposeful and heated and he doesn’t stop until he’s back in his room wanting to die all over again.

 

_ _ _ 

 

It’s Keith’s last night on this ship. In the universe. 

He’s not being dramatic - just realistic. 

There’s a massive star inside of him and it’s about to go supernova. About to set off and swallow him whole and in a funny sort of way...it’s mellowed Keith out… Melted him down… Kept him at this scorching, liquid state, that… 

He can’t even be mad anymore.

He doesn’t have the capacity.

When he moves, it’s like he’s floating. Like he’s being pulled in. By gravity. By _Lance’s_ gravity. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you...”

He finds him on the observation deck, silhouetted and dwarfed by the galaxy passing by the full bay windows. 

Reds…

Golds…

Oranges…

“Lance…”

Just seeing him turn - feeling those eyes fall on him - it’s enough to stoke the fire. But Keith wants to say it. _Needs_ to get it out. To apologize.

“It’s okay.” He’s walking closer. Careful. Observing Keith like the threatening supernova he is. “Just the pheromones, right?” Closer still, a step away. “We’re still friends...”

Keith can’t feel his legs. Can’t feel his fingers. Doesn’t know if he’s keeping his head up or not but Lance is smiling gently. Familiar. “Don’t laugh at me…”

“I’m not laughing,” he grins kindly. An extra beat. The red of the galaxy reflected in his eyes as he looks past it all. 

Keith melts under the attention - could become loose and pliant in Lance’s hands so easily. Has said what he needs to say but can’t bring himself to leave. 

And…

“I can help, you know…”

Keith’s eyes drop closed, even the suggestion enough to prod at the heat inside him. “Lance…”

“I can…” his step echoes, warmth lingers, voice gentle. “Keith, it’s _us.”_

It’s them. 

It’s the steady buildup that’s been ready to erupt for some time now, but…

“It’s us…” steady buildup…steady fire where Lance’s hands settle against the sides of his neck. “C’mon…”

He can hear the hum. The soft chuckle as he can’t help but press into the feeling. Wanting more. “...don’t laugh at me…” 

“I’m not…”

“You are…”

Another hum, eyelids heavy like Keith’s when they open. And Lance is just so pretty. So _much._ Too easy to touch, Keith’s palms burning where he’s sunk his nails in to prevent this very thing. “M’not laughing at you…”

But he’s smiling…

And they’re close…

And Keith’s grabbed on, fisted his hands into Lance’s shirt. Breathing in time with the heavy beat of his pulse in his ears. 

Because he wants him. 

Loves the electricity his thumb leaves with every stroke over his jawline. 

Has been _desperate_ for it. For the stroke. For the gentle drag over his bottom lip and the lean in and Keith’s body ignites - from the inside out - ignites and overwhelms but when he pushes this time it’s only a little. Just enough for a breath. Just enough to feel Lance’s lips quirk into a smile before Keith’s pressing forward to meet them again.

It should be strange. It should be boundary-breaking, kissing Lance like this - chasing after it - but he’s wanted this for way longer than the pheromones - wanted Lance’s mouth against his - pressing warmly down his neck. And he knows Lance has wanted it too. And it should be weird and boundary-breaking but _fuck_ is Keith about to get what he wants.

Lance lands exactly where he wants him on the floor, breath heavy and face flushed and almost challenging as he peers up at Keith. 

Because he’s grinning. He’s teasing. He sets off every single point in Keith’s body and he doesn’t have to hide it anymore, dropping just below his lap to tug at his belt and unbutton his pants.

Lance is already hard. Tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair and lets out a breathy but pleased, “holy fuck,” as Keith bobs his head. 

Like he’s been waiting for this too.

Like he’s been just as desperate for Keith’s mouth around him.

And as validating as that is, Keith definitely needs to be bouncing on this cock. So his pants come off like his life depends on it - because it does - because if he has to wait one more second he’s going to fucking scream. 

Lance helps, sitting up to unzip and pull and almost too much to look at with that eager glint in his eyes. But Keith fights through, the heat pushing and pulsing and if he’s going to die he wants to do it right here - in this exact moment - the head of Lance’s cock already so much better than Keith’s fingers as he sinks down onto him - energy filling him and Lance filling him and-

_“-fffffuuuuuuuck-”_

“You okay?” Lance is trying but his voice has clipped low and heavy and _fuck yes Keith is okay. Keith is incredible. Keith is in heaven and never wants to come down and-_

And he has to move. Has to press Lance’s upper half back down to the floor so he can hold on for dear life as he picks up the rhythm he’s been craving - the fullness of it all hitting off so many pleasure points that he’s sure he’s about to burst into a million points of tiny light like the galaxy in front of them.

Because this is it.

This is it - this is it - this is it.

“Holy shit, Keith…” he hears. Feels the hands on his body. Eats up the rush of the hips moving under him to meet the bounce he’s got going - stars behind his eyelids as he fucks himself on Lance’s cock.

And-

And _fuck-_

“M’gonna cum-”

Fuck it’s so quick but he can already tell it’s gonna blow his mind.

“Lance-”

“C’mon Keith-”

Gonna tip over and kill him and bring him right back to life again.

“Fuck-”

“C’mon Keith-” _he’s gonna-_ “Cum for me Keith-”

Everything zooms into a fine point and then explodes outward - sends him straight over the edge.

Keith goes supernova and he never wants to come down.

“Oh my god...” It echoes from somewhere below him - impressed - like maybe Lance can see what Keith’s seeing.

But he doubts it. 

And when he comes down - when it settles and his vision focuses tight and he’s back on solid ground - all he can do is collapse forward, rolling off just in time to rest against Lance’s side.

“...feel better…?”

Keith glances up. Finds comfort in the satisfaction he sees there too.

And he can’t exactly breathe yet but…

Yes. He nods. Lets his eyes close and revels in the very distinct lack of energy in his body. Fucking finally…

“That was hot,” Lance hums next to him. And Keith can just _hear_ his smirk. “Like, insanely fucking hot.”

But he doesn’t have the strength to fight back. 

So for now, Keith decides, he’ll just give him an eye-roll, the last shred of energy in his body used up to lay his head against his shoulder.

 

* * *

 


	15. Right Hand Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Right Hand Men**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,670 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance is Allura's Right Hand Man. Keith is Shiro's. They're sworn enemies - the kind of sworn enemies that spend time together and tease each other and DEFINITELY shouldn't be left in a closet together while hiding it all from everyone else. But here they are. And Lance is gonna get it in, isn't he?  
>  **Additional Tags:** rival street gangs au, pot mention, sexual tension, public sex, **trans power-bottom keith**, **afab language** 
> 
> ✨ for @pirnpslayer's request! thank you! :D ✨

Lance knows trouble when he sees it.

He can spot it from a mile away. 

Feels it land right in his core like a sucker punch to the gut.

So when he sees him for the first time, jeans ripped and cigarette low and eyes piercing through him from the other side of the lineup, Lance knows right away that this guy is a big ol’ pile of trouble.

He just doesn’t know what kind of trouble yet.

* * *

 

 

His name is Keith. And as mysterious as his sudden presence on the rival gang is, what’s more mysterious is his position - or more so, how high it is. 

Being trusted as the Right Hand Man is something Lance worked at for years, proving himself and proving himself and _proving himself_ to Allura before she finally gave him the title. So to have a newcomer immediately step into the role of Shiro’s Right Hand sits very oddly in Lance’s gut. Even if he seems to be the only one.

On the contrary, this stranger doesn’t look one step out of place next to Shiro as the two leaders discuss things in the forefront. He’s got the look - leather jacket, leather gloves - ears pierced more times than Lance can count from here, his lobes stretched enough to see through. There’s too much space between them on the street to make out the color of his eyes, but it hardly matters with how they lock onto Lance and refuse to let up - a first time stare-off - Right Hand versus Right Hand.

Lance returns it with interest, his head tilting back a bit with a lazy blink as he keeps the eye contact and lets the corner of his mouth twitch upward with a smirk.

He’s not afraid of this guy. 

He may look scary but he probably doesn’t have what it takes to hold this position. 

Next to them, Allura and Shiro finish their discussion - voice the gangs’ agreements for the week - and then everything is over.

Shiro turns first, not even needing to nod for Keith to know what to do. All it takes is the turn, then Keith returns the smirk, pulls his cigarette, and then flicks it in Lance’s direction. 

It’s all carried out through the stare-down and Lance’s grin is insatiable as the lit cigarette falls to the concrete right in front of his boots, Keith’s back to him as he walks away.

Oh, this shit is gonna be  _ fun. _

 

* * *

 

It should start off slow and easy but Lance has never done anything _slow and easy_ in his entire life.

It’s not long until he runs into Keith again - even sooner that he’s frisking him, patting him down like all outsiders are before he steps foot in Allura’s presence. 

But Lance takes special care - makes extra certain to be good and thorough, crouched to a knee as he slides his hands up the sides of those tight thighs - gets in close on the pass-over and returns the smirk that Keith shoots down at him as he’s shamelessly felt up.

Lance takes the knives. 

Takes the strap around his waist.

Stands at eye-level, drinking in the energy between them before nodding his head back. 

“Don’t bother her too long.”

He doesn’t get a response. Just a nudge of their shoulders as he passes and a cool middle finger over his shoulder when Lance watches after him to get a look at his ass.

 

* * *

 

 

It becomes the routine. 

The pat-down.

The feel-up.

Playing with fire where it’s most dangerous. 

And soon, more and more run-ins are added to their routine. Sometimes it’s intentional - purposely choosing streets they know the other will be on. Other times, it’s purely a coincidence. 

Today it’s planned, the upper room in this vacant house keeping them hidden enough away to not draw attention. Because he shouldn’t be here - with Keith - Lance knows that, watching as his so-called rival plucks up the next empty beer bottle and hurls it, smashing it into the corner of the room.

It’s juvenile. They both know that too. But sometimes a little low-key destruction is enough to take the edge off between heavier shit.

“Bulls-eye,” Keith's grin is deadly. Like there’s any skill to this at all. Like they’re not just bashing beer bottles to pieces where the walls meet.

Lance rolls his eyes - “Hope you don’t shoot like you throw.”  - picks up his own and weighs it in his hand. “Or maybe I do. It’d make it a hell of a lot easier for me.”

When it collides with the wall it shatters into a million little pieces, catching the sun’s rays streaming in, but nowhere near as sharp as the tone he’s met with.

“Better hope you never have to find out.”

Lance lolls his head to the side, taking in the tears in Keith’s clothes with an unconvinced eye. “Mm.” But there’s  _ one  _ thing he can’t deny. Something he’s finding harder and harder to fight off with every passing encounter. Especially when the sentiment is returned so brazenly. “Bet you’re better with that switchblade.”

“Good at both.” And Keith’s moving - stepping coolly up into Lance’s space so he can grab his jaw, stern and voice dropping low. “I’m very flexible.”

Lance eats up the tingle of interest that shouldn’t spark up his body but does all the same... Can’t help the grin that dances across his face as he says it… “Prove it.”

It’s the routine. The back-and-forth. Stoking each other and playing hard and what if one of these days it works? “Watch your mouth,” Keith says, and what’s next is a warning, “Gonna get your stupid ass in trouble.”

But Lance  _ wants _ to get in trouble. He  _ wants  _ to push too far, the corner of his mouth curling as he sticks his tongue out, flashing his piercing because he knows  _ exactly  _ what to do with this mouth.

It’s got Keith’s eyes flicking down to it, fingers still pressed sternly on either side of Lance’s jaw, brow raising as Lance wiggles his tongue in good measure, the piercing drawing his attention like he knew it would, but-

The sudden muffled voices from the floor below has them both moving - both snapping to attention because  _ someone’s here. _

Lance’s head whips for the window - hears the click of Keith pulling out his pistol - spots down to ground level but it’s too far to jump and  _ they can’t be seen here together and- _

Keith’s got him by the arm in a split-second, voice hushed but annoyed and, “They’re mine-” as he leads them to the closet because-

They’re his. From his gang. 

Great.

Lance follows and  _ yes  _ recognizes the gravity of the situation, but he’s never been able to shut his mouth for one fucking second so he whispers it - “What, you don’t wanna say hi?” just in time to be shoved into the closet - to be followed in after - to hear the door click shut just in time for the new voices to join them on the other side and-

…

…

Lance waits…

Listens…

_ “Someone’s been up here…” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Yeah look’it all these bottles.” _

He’s gotta control his breathing a little better. It’s so loud in this small space. Or maybe it’s Keith?

He glances down, pulse still hammering away. He didn’t realize the transition left him holding onto Keith’s forearms, but it’s fine because Keith’s hand is still pressed to his side as they wait. As they observe through the slats in the closet door. 

_ “Bet people get it in up here?”  _ The taller guy is dragging one of the folding chairs over the glass so he can take a seat, blasé as his partner shrugs while doing the same.

_ “Who knows…” _

_ “Bet Allura’s guy does.” _

Wait a minute-

_ “Huh?” _

_ “Just seems like the type to drag someone up here to get his dick wet.” _

Lance would be insulted if he wasn’t otherwise focused on Keith turning his head to him finally, his grin curling in such amusement as he looks up at him. He’s delighted - just  _ so entertained _ by his boys unknowingly joining in on the shit-talk. 

_ “What, you mean like you?” _

_ “No dude, not like me - the hell’s the matter with you.” _

Lance wants to protest, but he can’t pass up his own entertainment he’s getting out of Keith wordlessly teasing him like this. Especially in such a tight space. 

“Fuck off,” he whispers down to him, grin meeting, and it’s enough to have Keith’s attention fixing back down to his mouth again.

And ooh...such a nice little pulse of arousal in such a tight, dark space…

If Lance was gonna get his dick wet up here, he wouldn’t have to look far at all.

The scratch of a lighter flicking to life on the other side of the door has Keith’s gaze returning - has his hand lingering on Lance’s side before he pulls away and turns in the small space.

The closet is empty. No clothes. No hangers to bump into and make noise. Just a leftover mirror screwed into where they both face now, Keith’s reflection composed as he tilts his head a bit to watch through the slats of the door.

They’re lighting up out there. Settled in for the long haul. Unaware of their superior’s presence and the energy forced to be contained in such a tight spot.

But Lance is aware. God, he is  _ very aware,  _ his fingers itching to reach out and touch, protocol be damned.

Because Keith’s eyes are fixing on him in the mirror now, dull beams of light from the door streaking over him as he holds steady.

And they shouldn’t - Lance knows it - they both do - but how is he supposed to pass up a golden opportunity like this when it’s calling to him so blatantly?

_ “Gimme some.”  _

It’s paired with the familiar funk of pot in the air but Lance is stepping forward, warmth washing over him in the best way as he smoothly slots himself up against Keith. Because Keith's waiting for him, a smirk curling expectantly as Lance keeps that eye contact in the mirror and slowly passes his tongue up the side of his neck.

His piercing glints in the slatted light - has Keith baring more so he can do it again, nose grazing too as he tilts his head to flick his tongue over his skin and then snag a stretched earlobe between his teeth.

It’s a tease. As always. Has that heat blossoming nice and quick as Keith presses his ass back into his lap. 

And  _ fuck,  _ they really shouldn’t be doing this. 

He really shouldn’t let his hands settle on Keith’s hips from behind, following after as they move so smoothly against him.

But he does. 

Outside the door, one of them coughs through their hit - the perfect cover-up for the hum of pleasure at the base of Lance’s throat as he drags Keith backward, ass staying snug and grinding into his lap much easier with his back pressed to the wall like this. 

It’s dangerous in the best way. Has him lapping at the crook of Keith’s neck and sucking, just hard enough for the heat reflected in those pretty eyes to sharpen. 

“Don’t be stupid…” Keith whispers through a grin.

Because they can’t show up with hickeys. 

Can’t leave marks.

Shouldn’t  _ be here together. _

But Lance doesn’t care. Neither of them do, the number of times they’ve wrapped the other around their finger finally coming to a head. So he keeps sucking, grazing his teeth over the sweet hot skin but keeping an ear out for changes in the next room.

Another scratch of the lighter.

Another hit.

The slow but confident way Keith takes one of Lance’s hands and drags it past his waist to lead it between his legs.

Lance swallows thickly. Revels in the heat waiting for him under those jeans. Gives a little rub, eyes flicking to where Keith’s gaze has become purposeful as it stares back at him through the mirror.

Daring him.

His hand slips under the belt and inside Keith’s pants so easily that he’s almost impressed with himself. But that’s not what he’s fixating on right now. No, not with how beautifully wet Keith is as he palms over him, his middle finger slipping teasingly past his folds.

“Someone’s eager.” He can’t pass up the opportunity to taunt him. 

But it’s quickly clipped short by the heady drag of Keith’s ass over where he’s already painfully hard.

Alright, that’s fair.

He’s still gonna milk this for all it’s worth though.

Keith’s mouth drops open easily, eyes still on him as Lance presses forward, the tip of his finger circling slickly around his entrance as he asks it, “How fast can you cum…?” and then slips inside, knuckle-deep.

Keith’s so tight around him - so warm - so tempting that he makes Lance’s mouth water - makes his cock ache - another finger pumping in and out.

And the gods must be with him because he doesn’t have to wait, the hands working to unclip an interfering gun strap prompting Lance to deal with his own too, both of them laid onto the ground as quietly as possible and then he’s back - he’s unzipping his pants - he’s appreciating the gorgeous sight of Keith’s bare ass in all its glory and-

On the other side of the door, the conversation continues, but it’s all muddled over in Lance’s ears as Keith presses into him, lining himself up and sinking backward onto his cock and  _ oh-ho-ho-ho yes… Finally... _

They have to move quietly but it doesn’t stop Keith from taking control - from bracing a hand on the wall in front of him and bouncing that pretty pussy on his cock like the fucking demon he is.

It’s all Lance can do to not growl. To not smack his ass. To not let loose all the nasty shit he wants to say as he watches Keith fuck himself, the streaking sun through the slatted door painting it all in this weird, wonderful light and  _ fuck Keith feels so good. _

_ And he has to be quiet. _

_ And he shouldn't be here with him but he’s gonna cum all the same isn’t he- _

Lance pulls out just in time, back gone rigid as he jerks himself away, lips pressed tight and the pleasure rolling over him in perfect waves. 

Because they have to be quiet.

They shouldn’t be here.

They shouldn’t _be_ _ together _ but they are and he came and Lance pulls his pants up so he can drop to his knees - so he can get Keith turned to him and against to the other wall with a leg over his shoulder and Keith’s so fucking wet as Lance presses his mouth to him - as he  _ slurps up that sweet pussy because holy fuck. _

The hands in his hair egg him on, keep him moving, tighten as Lance sucks over his clit and fucks him with his fingers and Lance knows he’s close when the leg over his shoulder pulls him in, hips chasing after his tongue and  _ oh god he’s coming - _ breath ragged - thighs trembling - pussy pulsing around his fingers and Lance licks him through it, how hot it is already getting him hard again.

The conversation outside continues to flow, but inside here everything is muffled and steamy and so fucking  _ much _ that Lance knows this definitely isn’t the last time. There’s no way. Just...maybe next time not in a closet.

Keith’s breath is heavy as he gets his belt buckled again, forgoing their straps on the ground to approach Lance with a flushed face. 

And when he grabs Lance’s jaw, it’s to focus on his tongue piercing again - this time wet with Keith’s slick. 

He gives it a breathy little nod of satisfaction - a job well done - and then pats Lance’s cheek a couple times before turning away to deal with the guns.

And Lance can only smirk, breath just as heavy.

Because what - Keith thought  _ that  _ was impressive?

He ain’t seen  _ nothin’  _ yet.

 

* * *

 


	16. Second Star To The Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Second Star To The Right**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** teen (for swearing)  
>  **Word-count:** 2,788 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith should be having fun on this Disney trip with his brother, but he's not. And it has everything to do with the cute Peter Pan that keeps following him around.  
>  **Additional Tags:** meet-cute :), peter pan face character lance, grumpy keith, dey cuties
> 
> for @echotovalley! thank you so much - i cry!

Keith is not happy.

Keith is not having a “Magical Time” or whatever’s supposed to be happening here at Disneyland. 

He’s thankful to be on vacation and even happier to be with Shiro but _fuck,_ everything is just so… _...cheery._

But his brother wants to be here. Keith can’t deny how nice it is to watch Shiro finally at ease with the world after a hard year. So he’ll behave. He’ll shut the fuck up. He’ll watch silently, off to the side on one of their water breaks as children swarm around the Peter Pan character outside his ride queue. 

It’d be cute if the kids weren’t so loud. But that’s soon dealt with as Peter takes a knee, gathering all of them into a circle to go over some sort of super secret plan, dramatically peeking his head out every once in a while to make sure the nearby parents aren’t listening. It takes care of a lot of the noise, but Keith’s still tired. Still grumpy. Still unimpressed, even as the actor’s attention suddenly fixes on him from above the circle of short, organized heads.

Unsettling.

Whatever.

Except-

Oh - Keith straightens, frown already firmly in place.

“Keith…” he hears Shiro warn somewhere next to him, but it melts away under the alarming and _extra horrible_ feeling of being approached. 

Because umm what the fuck, he’s bringing all the kids straight over here - please no?

“You!” Peter’s pointing at him. Calling him out. Peter fucking Pan is calling Keith’s ass out right now - what the fuck. “You listenin' in on our plans?”

Keith knows he’s pulling a face. An unhappy, unimpressed one. “...no?”

“This plan’s for Lost Boys and Lost Boys only!”

“I’m-... I couldn’t even hear you from here.” 

Is that enough? Is that enough to appease him? 

The kids all puff out their chests behind him - follow right along with this guy’s game like it’s real or something.

“A likely story.” _God,_ please go away. “But...” he puts a pensive finger to his chin in thought, much less sassy but still staring down at Keith, “If you’re not after the treasure for yourself...maybe you can help us…”

Beside him, Shiro is finding it hard to contain his laughter. And Keith kinda wants to blow this all off and just leave but, “No.”

Aghast. _“No?!”_

“No thanks,” Keith repeats, finally sticking to the eye contact and - ...hang on... ...is this guy cute…? 

“Fine then.” He doesn’t get a chance to make sure, Peter turning on his heels and regrouping the honorary Lost Boys around him with a flourish and a pointed, “Grown ups, right?”

He’s met with laughter. 

With agreeing nods.

And when they disappear - to...find their treasure, Keith guesses - Shiro is right there next to him with the most slyly entertained smile Keith’s seen all trip.

 

_ _ _

 

He writes it off as an unfortunate one-time thing.

Until it happens again.

They’re eating off to the side an hour later - popcorn that leaves Keith’s mouth salty and dry, but not salty and dry enough for a ten dollar drink. It’s what he’s lamenting when he feels it...the looming presence near the wishing well to his left…

He should expect it but doesn’t, and it has him startling a little as he turns his head and is met with a shit-ton of green and-

“Jesus-...” 

He’s sitting cross-legged on the edge of the wishing well. 

Peter Pan.

“Who’s that?”

Keith has to take a moment. Has to shake off the startle before he can make a face, repeating the question because he _knows_ he heard it wrong. “Who’s _Jesus?”_

“Mhm!” Peter nods, grasping at his tight-clad ankles where they’re crossed. “They your friend?”

“Jesus is _everyone’s_ friend,” Shiro says next to him and Keith wants to die.

Especially with the innocent little, “Oh!” the red feather on his cap glinting in the sun as he presses on. “Can you introduce me-”

“Okay bye.”

Keith’s up and out of there and doesn’t really care if Shiro’s following because frankly he can’t fucking take it anymore. The act. The-... The _attention_ this stupid Peter Pan is giving him for a reason he can’t explain, and-

And _yes._ After getting another look, Keith can confirm that he definitely _is_ cute. Like. ...like _really_ cute. 

And that shit’s just not something he wants to deal with right now, okay Disney?

Jesus.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s okay to be in love with Peter Pan, Keith.”

“I’m not in love with Peter Pan.”

“Alright.”

“...”

“...but if you were, it’d be okay-”

“Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

They avoid Fantasyland entirely the next day.

Per Keith’s request.

But not because he’s in love with a character who’s got a ride there.

It’s because he’s tired. And a little grumpy. And this vacation is just a whole lot easier to deal with when he doesn’t have a face character following him around asking if he’s seen Wendy. (No. He hasn’t seen Wendy. And if he did see Wendy, he’d tell her to run away so she didn’t have to deal with him.)

That’s all in the past now. It’s a new day. The sun is shining and Shiro is looking over the park map as they wait in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and it doesn’t actually dawn on Keith how stupid he is until he sees the flash of red.

Because no.

Oh no.

It’s Captain Hook. 

A pirate.

Which means-

“Oh ho ho-...” Shiro’s already laughing. _“Fuck_ yes.”

Keith can feel his guard rising, eyes searching for the telltale green. The airy bop in each step. The smile - big and bright and child-like and _no - oh no, he sees him._

The line moves up. Keith steps with it but doesn’t take his eyes off how Peter dashes in between people, sneaking up on an unsuspecting Hook with long, exaggerated steps.

 _“Get him! Get him!”_ the children cheer him on from behind, the smile he flashes as he turns paired with a shushing single finger to his mouth.

“He’s good,” Shiro remarks offhandedly. 

But Keith isn’t really listening. Because for once, he’s enjoying the show. Like... _actually_ finding the theatrics kind of funny. He guesses it just has to be _not_ directed at him for it to land.

Time ticks on.

The line moves forward.

Peter catches Hook and is congratulated and everything kind of dies down because Keith loses sight of him. And it should be worrying, but it isn’t.

Until it is.

Because another glance up shows that he’s once again being playfully approached - light unconcerned footfalls - but...

But he’s safe here, right? 

In line?

Around older people?

Keith quickly turns away just in case, coming face to face with his brother and subtly shaking his head at him as he sees his eyes track the approach and _no no no._

“Good hiding spot.”

Keith’s shoulders deflate. 

Eyes drop closed in defeat.

God damn it.

Okay, fine. He’ll play along. _Just_ because Shiro finds it so fucking funny.

“Thanks.” It’s deadpan. Not amused as he turns back around to him. “Where’s your handler?” Because isn’t he supposed to be watched? Isn’t that part of the whole Disney Character Experience thing?

That must not be one of the things they’re programmed to address because Peter just smiles back, dimples at the ready as he grabs onto the handrail between them and hangs his weight back with a playful head tilt. _“Something_ tells me you’re still grumpy today.”

Keith’s blink is tired. “Super grumpy.” Does he really have to deal with this again? 

Around them, people have taken interest, but only minimally. Their line-mates are mostly older - honeymooners and the like. Nothing like the swarm of children that seem to flock to Peter everywhere he goes.

It’s a calmer setting. Gives Keith a little bit more space to breathe. Lets him actually appreciate the perfectly styled hair under that cap… How white his teeth are when he flashes that annoyingly attractive smile...

And maybe…

Maybe if Keith could just get him to stop being so…Disney™. 

“Well,” Peter tosses his head to the other side, completely unaware of the plan unfolding in Keith’s head. “Grumpy days happen. I know what fixes ‘em-”

“I’m gonna start a fire.”

“Huh-”

“Gonna set fire to the Pirates ride.”

And oh, for a beat - for just one blessed moment - that smile turns noticeably forced - voice still cheery but just a sliver of who’s actually behind Peter peeking out. “Boy, I...sure hope that’s a joke so I don’t have to report it to Wendy.”

It’s beautiful and glorious and Keith wants more.

But.

“It’s a joke.” Shiro’s quick to ruin it. Quick to suck every single ounce of fun out of Keith’s plan to avoid _legal matters or some shit._

Whatever. 

It was fun while it lasted.

Because Peter’s right back to it, gearing up for something undoubtedly draining when he’s tackled from behind by a child in a pirate costume, his attention immediately turning to her with a full-body: “THERE you are!” 

He’s probably never seen her once in his life but that doesn’t stop him from carrying on, fully invested and following after her as she pulls him away by the hand.

Their voices echo as Keith and Shiro watch after them.

Then, when the coast is clear:

“Why won’t you let me have fun.”

Shiro doesn’t even return his gaze. “I’m not getting thrown in Disney jail.”

 

_ _ _

 

What if that was it?

What if that was the last time, and Keith was never bothered by the Disneyland Peter Pan ever again?

Who knows? Because of course that can’t happen.

Of course this can’t end without Keith doing something Big Stupid.

 

_ _ _

 

It’s just after Day-Three-dinner-time when it happens. When everything is dumped into the trash can and Keith turns to head back toward their bench but there’s suddenly tiny bodies - a ton of them - appearing and lurching out at him with a coordinated “AHH” and Keith just-

“FUCK-”

It slips out.

Has Peter’s eyes going wide.

Has him tripped up for a moment before clamping his hands down over the nearest child’s ears, voice booming as he redirects them with a “THIS WAY, LOST BOYS!”

And Keith swears to god he doesn’t mean to. 

He _doesn’t._

But he does.

 

* * *

 

The spot he finds by the lagoon while Shiro waits in line at the gift shop is isolated - a little off the main path, and the perfect place to decompress from a long day.

The sun is starting to set. Fireflies are starting to rise. It’s nice and quiet with the muffled background noise, lulling Keith into an easy sense of serenity. Even when he feels the familiar presence.

“You just don’t give up, do you...”

The head that lolls into view beside him is close but upside down, Peter leaning his head over as he lounges his back against the other side of the bench. He gives a half-smile but doesn’t speak. For once.

Keith doesn’t blame him after the mess he made for him today. “So…” he looks down at his hands so he doesn’t have to see him. “...sorry for swearing in front of those kids…”

When he does finally speak, his voice has that special lilt, but not annoyingly so. Not like it’s been. “It’s okay.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. Hook does it all the time. You must be a pirate too.”

Keith takes the chance to glance over at him now, unable to stop himself from taking in the lines of his face this close. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“What.”

“That.” He directs it at him. “Talk like that.” A sweeping gesture that probably comes off dismissing. “You don’t have to do the whole Peter thing right now. No one else is around.”

It’s permission that he’s not sure he has the authority to give, Peter’s smile softening before he lets his head tilt back, gaze knowing toward the stars. “Mm…”

It’s peaceful, somehow.

Pleasant…

...intimate…?

God, Keith doesn’t wanna admit it but...after that slip in line yesterday, he’s desperate for whatever’s lurking under there. Whatever actually makes this guy real.

“I… I think that’d make me feel less grumpy.”

Those eyes fix on him again. “What.”

“Hearing you be normal.”

Peter’s grin slips back into what’s distinctly _Peter,_ the bench groaning under his weight as he swings himself over to sit next to him, cross legged. “Normal?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s _normal-”_

“Say ‘fuck’.”

Peter tilts his head knowingly, hands coming down to rest on his knees. “That’s a pirate word-”

“Just say it,” Keith can feel the smile blooming across his face - a real one - for the first time in what feels like a week. 

And maybe it’s the setting sun. 

Maybe it’s the atmosphere or the twinkling melody that’s filtering in from a nearby nighttime parade. 

Or maybe it’s _none_ of that - just the pleasant rush of Peter’s pause drawing long...his gaze to the sky again before he comes back down to lean in, voice hushed as he grins it into Keith’s ear - “...fuck…” - and then pulls away with a playful but sincere smile. Maybe it’s that - easy steps sending him off down the path once again, the breeze carrying his far off: _“Have you seen Wendy?”_ to a little girl waiting for him in a nightgown.

Maybe that’s what gets Keith’s heart fluttering in his chest. 

 

* * *

 

On their last night, they hang around for the parade - shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers. But Keith is used to it by now. Doesn’t really notice it. Zones out a little, the lights shimmering on the parade floats a few people in front of him as they slowly pass by.

And all in all, when everything is said and done, it hasn’t been a _terrible_ trip, he guesses.  It's had its moments - both good and very, _very_ bad. But that’s what all vacations are like, aren’t they?

In front of them, Cinderella twirls in the roped off path, the lights sewn into her gown sparkling like real-life magic. And Keith is all at once at peace.

“Be right back,” Shiro says, ducking away and feeding through the crowd before Keith has a chance to properly ask it.

“Where’re you-...” 

But the empty space his brother leaves is easy to fill, another shoulder coming to rest right up against Keith’s in no time flat. 

“Sorry…” he murmurs - aware of the touch - conscious. But…

“S’all good.”

And...

Keith’s...brain stalls…

Doubts…

Registers the familiar voice, now far more composed. Far more tangible. More _real._

And when he glances over, the little flutter in his chest takes off. Because.

Familiar. 

 _Peter._ But…

But _not_ Peter.

He turns his head, meeting Keith’s gaze with an easy, goofy half grin that has those butterflies flitting around. Because he’s _him_ \- hair windswept - no longer styled into something too-perfect - that overwhelming green traded in for a loose tank top - some sensible pants. And Keith knows he’s staring, but…

Wow.

Um…

_...wow._

In front of them, Belle twirls elegantly down the path with Beast. But the smile dancing across Keith’s face is reserved for the boy next to him. Has been, this whole trip, he realizes. 

And when his gaze falls on the offering in the open palm before him, he has no choice but to reel those emotions back in, for fear of overdoing it.

Because there’s a gift there, waiting for him. A key-chain with a tiny red painted feather. 

Keith is gracious as he takes it, but can’t resist the amused eye-roll as he stuffs it into his pocket before he makes a scene. Because this shit doesn’t just happen. Not in real life.

He’s not supposed to be standing here, caving and taking the hand still offered out to him, their shoulders pressed comfortably together as they silently watch the parade float by.

But he is.

It’s happening for him.

And maybe, Keith thinks as he peeks over, the lights twinkling in those pretty eyes - maybe there _is_ something magic about this place.

 

_ _ _

 

Shiro and his coordinated stunt get the tenth degree when they make it back to the hotel room, but it loses an incredible amount of fire because Keith can’t stop smiling.

And when he steps out onto the small enclosed balcony before heading to bed, that rush of butterflies take flight in his chest all over again.

Because he flips the tag over on the feather key-chain, lightning bugs joining him and the smile that flutters to life when he sees the phone number waiting for him. And, even better than that, the sloppily written name that ties it all together with a smiley face.

_Lance_

 

 

THE END

 

* * *

 


	17. Head Rush Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Head Rush Pt. 3**
> 
> **Pairing:** Klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,341 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith knows Lance touches himself when he calls him while high. But Lance doesn't know Keith knows. Until he does.  
> Additional Tags: weed use, phone sex, it isn't Keith's forte and that's okay because it's Lance's, it all comes down to this folks
> 
> [ Part One ] [ Part Two ]

Keith is thirsty for his best friend.

He’s spiraling. 

_Wants Lance._

Feels the curl of arousal in his stomach like the curl of smoke in his lungs.

The open window pulls out the clouds from Lance’s bedroom, but leave Keith with no such relief. Because Lance is the picture of serenity lying here, on his back, the setting sun casting golds across his smooth skin and Keith really just wants to eat him up and dick him down - he’s not denying it anymore. 

Because he knows now, his own brain hazy from the pot. He’s heard Lance touch himself to their calls. He’s heard the hitches in his breath and how they unknowingly align with Keith’s own as he rolls his hips after it. He _knows now._ And knowing is so much more dangerous than not. It makes him thirsty. Makes him _want._

Lance takes a hit next to him, smoke dancing slowly from his parted lips - unknowingly drawing attention. The only reason Keith looks away is to accept the joint when it’s passed over to him.

Crackling paper…

Smooth heat…

Keith keeps his mouth shut in more ways than one, offering down another hit and receiving the pleasant decline. 

He leans forward… Reaches over Lance to let go of his breath where he leaves the joint by the window… Enjoys the heady rush of the body underneath him in the process and the low but exaggerated groan he gets.

Theatrics.

Keith huffs a short laugh, returning to his spot next to him - relieving him of his body-weight. And…

The breeze coming in from the window sweeps Lance’s bangs back… Has his eyes dropping open slowly...pupils blown and pretty.

It’s not normal for them, but Keith leans closer just the same. Because he’s a little bit obsessed with Lance’s face right now… That sharp jawline… Those plump lips…

He’s staring - closer than necessary - but Lance is staring back...right up at him...eyelids heavy and chest falling calmly… So easy for Keith when he leans down just a little further to-

The smile that breaks over Lance’s face would be attractive if it didn’t have him collapsing into a fit of breathy chuckles through his nose - if it didn’t have a hand coming to his stomach as he rolls just a touch off to the side and-...

And…

Keith blinks, gaze coming to fix off of him in annoyance.

_Okay._

Lance just _has_ to be a laughy stoner right now, doesn’t he.

“I-...” it’s breathy and unarguably cute but- “Fuck - I gotta go…” entire body rolling off the bed, “I gotta pee-” spurred by his sudden giggle-fit.

Keith watches him disappear out and into the hallway, the bathroom door echoing as it slams shut behind him, and-...

Keith falls back onto the mattress with a huff, eyes to the ceiling.

_Okay._

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he makes it home and into his own bed, his high has bled all the way out, reality seeping back in.

He shouldn’t be disappointed. He and Lance are friends. He shouldn’t expect anything except the joking touches and goofy grins that he already expects and loves so much.

It’s Lance.

Lance and Keith.

And it’s gotta be enough.

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

_buzz buzz_

The dark ceiling illuminates from Keith’s phone - from Lance’s face grinning back at him on his incoming call photo. It’s enough to have him sighing again, a quick glance to his nightstand showing the quickly approaching midnight hour.

But it’s Lance. 

And Lance is never actually a bother.

“Hey.” 

_“So...it just kinda registered that you were tryna kiss me today.”_

No ‘hi’. No ‘how’s it going’. Just... _that._ And it immediately has Keith’s stomach sinking toward his feet because…

Okay… So he did notice… What-... What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

Maybe if Keith just stalls it. Maybe if he just shuts the fuck up, like he even has the ability to force anything out right now, his nerves kicking in like clockwork.

Lance is already trying to fill in the awkward silence he’s leaving - always the one to carry it - words piecing together carefully.

_“I mean… Unless my brain just made that up?”_

He’s giving him an out. A chance to get out of this with his dignity and their friendship still intact. Or… 

_“Keith.”_

“What…”

 _“I...wasn’t trying to get out of it, if that’s what you think. I didn’t know that’s what you were doing…”_ Another pause. Keith’s heart in his throat. _“...’cause that’s what you were doing... ...right?”_

It’s too much. 

Recognizing it is too much.

Keith has never been good with words or people and it rushes out because he needs to flip it - needs to shove the attention off of him and onto someone else before he combusts so- “I know you get off when we’re on the phone.”

A whiplash of a direction change. Immediate relief. The last ease of pent up breath slowly releasing from his lungs as he throws Lance under the bus because maybe Keith’s _not a very good friend._

Because Lance is laughing, but even through the crackle of the phone-line, Keith can hear how forced it is. _“I don’t-”_

“You’re not slick about it.” If they’re really gonna get into this. If Keith’s really gonna _drag the both of them into this._ “I can hear you when you do it.”

Now it’s Lance’s chance to grow silent. To struggle through the minefield that Keith just barely made his way out of. And suddenly that relief that had been sinking in starts to pull away. Because they’re right back into it, aren’t they? Calling things out. Not flat-out denying but definitely not able to scrape up enough tenacity to confirm anything.

Keith doesn’t like it as much as he thought he would. 

Can’t hang onto the relief of passing off his unease when it leaves his best friend uncharacteristically silent on the other end.

So...

“It’s okay, Lance...” It’s mumbled off the tail-end of a sigh. Because this one, at least, they’re equally guilty of. This one they can fess up to together. Even if Keith has to take the first step for once in his life. “I’ve done it too.”

He can’t see his face but he wishes he could.

Or maybe he’s glad he can’t. Maybe he doesn’t wanna see whatever’s flashing across Lance’s face as it dawns on him what Keith just said. What he just admitted to.

 _“Wait…”_ Careful. _“...really?”_

“Really.”

_“You’re not just-”_

“No - I did it too.”

The pause that follows is nothing like the first one - heavy in a different way - heavy like Lance’s voice, still cautious but _oh so curious._ _“When?”_

Keith knows it’s coming. He has nowhere to run now because he was the one who started it. But for some weird reason, the words come easier when it’s not just him on the chopping block.

“That last time... With the bullshit about kickboxing…” He remembers it well. His whole story to egg it all on. “That wasn’t even true... I just wanted to hear you...”

It feels wrong to say. 

Forbidden.

Like he should be keeping it a secret that he made something up just to hear the reaction he got on the other side. 

And when Lance speaks, it’s low. Low but undeniably packed with heat behind each word. _“So you-... Did you get off...?”_

His voice works its way down Keith’s body without trying, his pulse kicking in as he rolls onto his back to steady himself. 

Because he shouldn’t be getting turned on. Probably shouldn’t confirm it. But… 

“Mhm…”

Secrets. Secrets secrets secrets. Spilling quicker now.  

_“How’d you do it?”_

“Pillow…”

_“You got off humping your pillow?”_

He can hear the thought behind that. The silent tease. And if Lance really wants to play that game, Keith can follow right after him. “I was pretending it was you.”

Because there’s plenty more secrets to spill.

More heavy breaths to hear, one passing from the other side, Lance’s voice dropping into something low and heated from it.

 _“...Jesus, dude...”_ It’s hot, sending tingles of similar heat from Keith’s stomach down between his legs. _“You know I-... I think I’m a little better than a pillow, though.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Yeah… I could suck you off first…”_

Keith’s eyes drop closed. Brow furrows just a bit with the heady arousal that uncurls where he lies because _holy fuck._ His imagination. Lance’s voice. He’s never heard him say shit like that and now that he has… “...oh my god…”

It’s hidden in a breath and he doesn’t know if Lance hears him but he can hear the labor behind Lance’s words as he must position himself differently in bed. _“That too much…?”_

A matter of boundaries, but Keith’s ready to blow through a few more if it means he gets to hear that voice while he imagines Lance’s mouth on him. “N-...” _god_ “...not too much…”

 _“Good…”_ heavy breath...secrets… _“Tell me I’m not the only one who’s hard…”_

There’s a lilt that has that grin painting across Keith’s eyelids. 

Lance is hard. 

_Lance is hard._

“...me too…” Keith’s not used to dirty talk, but is this even dirty?

_“Fuck...wish I could feel…”_

A shiver wracks down his body - has his toes curling and heat pooling.

Okay yeah, this is dirty talk.

_“Tell me what you want, Keith…”_

And oh… Holy shit, the things Keith wants…

His mattress groans as he turns over, body pillow pulled snugly under him because if he’s gonna do this he’s gonna do this right. 

“You…”

_“Yeah...?”_

“Yeah…” warmth blossoms as he starts to roll his hips, just like the time before. “Wanna fuck you…”

It feels heavy and foreign coming out of his mouth but it must land on the other end. 

Because Lance is groaning - almost a chuckle - like he’s imagining it and loving what he’s hearing and seeing and- _“God - tell me how you’d fuck me…”_

Secrets. Keith’s imagined it too a thousand times now. Familiar as they play out in his head but his words struggle to form around them. 

He wants to fuck Lance until he’s shaking. Wants to flip him over and ruin him but he doesn’t know how to get that out - brain hazing over from too much thought.

And Lance is filling the silence. _Always fills the silence._ Always carries them to where they need to go.

_“Wanna be on you so bad right now…”_

It’s almost like a passing thought - like something not intended to be spoken but slipping regardless and Keith _recognizes that tone._

“...you’re touching yourself aren’t you…”

The bite it comes out with is unintentional and almost judging, but-

 _“Course I am…”_ Lance is gone anyway. Probably sprawled out with a hand down his pants. Or maybe no pants? Maybe he’s laying there wide open for the taking? _“...stretchin’ myself for you- fffuck…”_

Keith’s hips rock tighter, the friction he gets against the pillow shooting sparks up his spine and to his toes as he imagines it. “...how many…?”

_“...hnn...two…”_

Two fingers. 

_“...want you though…”_

“...yeah…?”

 _“Yeah…”_ breathy, _“...want that cock…”_

Keith’s eyes flutter closed, a groan slipping from the back of his throat as he chases after the friction - chases after Lance’s voice. “Fuck…”

This is hot. This is so fucking hot - holy shit.

_“Keith…”_

“Add another finger.”

He doesn’t know where the authoritative buzz comes from but it spurs it - for him - for Lance, the hitch in his breath as he must do what he’s told going straight to Keith’s dick.

_“...hh- oh…”_

God… He’s _aching._ Already getting close.

_“Fuck Keith I wanna be over there.”_

Chases chases chases after it, “I want you here,” rocks his hips in tightly and misses what he’s never had, “I hate this pillow.”

Lance’s laugh is so breathy and hot and _jesus christ-_ _“Doesn’t fuck you back like I could...”_

Jesus _Christ._

“Tell me.”

 _“I could ride you if you want...”_ Yes. _“...get your cock nice and wet before I bounce on it for you.”_

“Holy fuck.” Direct hit. Pooling heat and tingling pleasure points and what he wouldn’t _give_ to be fucking Lance right now instead.

_“Y-... ...you want that...?”_

He’s egging him on. 

Stoking his fire.

“Fuck yes I want that.”

He wants it so bad he could scream, hips pitching forward, eyes squeezed shut and hand gripped so tightly as he holds his phone to his ear that he’s white-knuckling it. Because he wants. He wants, he wants, he wants-

 _“...‘m close…”_ voice pitching higher, _“...’m getting close Keith…”_

The rush of adrenaline works over Keith like crazy - “Me too-”

Works over him and under him and Lance is a breath away, fingering himself and wishing it was Keith’s cock and- _“Fuck I’m gonna cum-”_ rushed - liquid hot and - _“fuck, Keith - fuck, ‘m gonna cum for you-”_

Rushing rushing rushing and Keith can’t get any of the hundreds of words out that he wants because he’s tipping over too, collapsing forward and rutting through it and _fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck…_

Lance’s voice isn’t muffled - isn’t hidden away like all the other times - is like gravel and almost angry and it makes Keith cum that much harder - has his orgasm wracking up his entire body until he can’t possibly move his hips any more, his face buried in his pillow as he struggles to catch his breath.

Because…

They just-...

That was-... 

It’s all spinning. Blinding behind his eyelids for a moment before finally climbing down.

If it were any of the other times, Lance’s end would’ve gone silent. Keith would have ended the call and pretended like nothing happened when they saw each other the next day.

But this is not one of those times.

This is Lance’s voice returning, ragged and labored but starting to regain some of that bounce that is distinctly _Lance._

_“Uh… So I’ll be over in like ten, yeah?”_

And Keith just rolls onto his back, chest still heaving as he runs a hand through his sweaty bangs.

“Make it five.”

 

* * *

 


	18. Head Rush Pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Head Rush Pt. 4**
> 
> **Pairing:** Klance  
>  **Rating:** Explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 3,031 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance just got off on the phone with Keith. His best friend. And it's midnight but he's on his way over to Keith's and he could so easily freak out right now.  
>  **Additional Tags:** weed use, bottom lance, first time, nervous boys!
> 
> for @meeokie and @epiproctan!
> 
> [ Part One ] [ Part Two ] [ Part Three ]

Lance is out of his mind.

Has had his shit called out - point blank - but then amazingly justified by Keith’s similar intentions and he-

He can’t believe that just happened. Can’t believe he just had phone sex with him. Is even more blown away by the fact that he’s about to reach his apartment not fifteen minutes later. To do it. To hook up for real. He’s been imagining this shit on his own for years now and it's actually happening.

Keith’s door is unlocked for him as always - like Keith always does when he knows Lance is coming over late but when Lance comes over late it’s never for  _ this.  _ Never to hook up. 

But he’s still clinging onto that post-orgasm brain haze - it’s what’s keeping things at a more digestible buzz. Because when he pushes quietly into Keith’s little studio apartment, he could so easily start freaking out. 

But he doesn’t.

He just clicks the door shut after himself, movements silent as he draws Keith’s attention from where he sits on his bed, tongue stilled against a joint’s side as he pauses mid-roll.

And Lance could so easily freak out. Could launch himself into trying to figure out why Keith needs to roll one right now. 

But he doesn’t.

He just keeps walking, quiet steps through the tiny kitchen and closer closer closer until he falls into the empty space waiting for him on the bed. Casual. Like he always does. 

And he’s gotta say something.

“So uh…” gotta watch the last measured lick before the joint is sealed over,  _ “...that  _ was hot…”

Keith huffs a laugh next to him but Lance can hear the hesitation. Notes how he hasn’t looked at him since the door. Watches how he gives the end another quick twist before grabbing his lighter and sparking up.

The paper crackles and glows in the dark and Lance could so easily freak out right now if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t want to. 

He wants to stay steady.

Wants to fuck.

But...

“It’s not-...” Keith is speaking, hit blown easily in the other direction but eyes not lifting, “It isn’t weird...right?”

Lance watches carefully. Listens carefully. Waves away the offered joint but he gets why Keith is asking -  _ trust him he does. _ “No-”

“Like, we’re still cool and everything… If we-...” He’s in his head. Overthinking. Unable to ignore the very real and very scary path they’re heading farther and farther down. 

And Lance is right there with him. He  _ gets it.  _ Gets just how easy it’d be to fuck everything they have up. How easily they could both be freaking out right now. How much  _ much  _ closer one of them is to doing just that, but… 

But he’s also aching. 

For all of it.

For Keith.

“Do you want to…?” He has to make sure he’s not the only one trying to take it this far. 

Feels the tingle in his fingers as Keith finally looks at him, skin pretty in the moonlight, still flushed from their call. “Do  _ you  _ want to?”

They’ve sat close and knocked knees so many times it shouldn’t even register anymore. But it does because it’s never been like this. Never under this kind of weird, unspoken tension.

The silence between them is heavy, but there’s also something undeniable dancing between them. Something lighter. 

Anticipation.

Hope?

Lance clears his throat, because he could so easily freak out right now but instead: “Actually yeah - I’ll get a hit of that.” He gets it. Needs to take the edge off. Needs to haze it over just a  _ little  _ bit more so he can say it, smoke lifting to the ceiling, “And yes, I still want you to fuck me.”

So badly. He wants Keith to fuck him like they were imagining he would on the phone. Wants him deep enough that freaking out isn’t even a blip on their radars anymore.

He wants it all and wants Keith to fucking know it. 

Even if it has Keith huffing another breathy laugh - astounded - because it’s got a hand coming up to self-soothe - to steady himself, fingers massaging over his eyes, and-

“Stop overthinking.”

“I’m not.”

Lance sets the joint away on the ashtray they stole from the café down the street. Wants to reach out but also doesn’t wanna be the first one to touch - doesn’t wanna be the first one to break it.

And Keith is struggling...rubbing his eyes…pulling a Classic Keith even with a couple hits in his system and-

“You’re overthinking it-”

“I’m  _ not-” _

“You are, dude. We just did this shit like ten minutes ago - you don’t have to-”

Adrenaline shoots up Lance’s spine as Keith moves - just fucking twists with a huff and gets his hand on Lance’s chest and is pushing -  _ shoving  _ \- following Lance down onto the bed until he’s got him pinned, not angry, just worked up as he murmurs it: “Shut up.”  

And for once, Lance fucking listens. “Okay.”

Because Keith’s moving, dropping to close the last remaining space and slotting their lips together and  _ oh, Lance could so easily freak out right now if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been wanting to make out with his best friend for years now. _

Because Keith’s not gentle. 

It’s slow, but it’s hot and heavy right away, Lance’s toes curling as Keith licks into his mouth like he’s hungry for it. Because he is. They both are. And there’s something about that hunger that makes Lance’s own feel so justified.

He kisses back like he’s wanted. 

Passes his tongue over Keith’s like he’s been craving. 

Drops his hand over the one still pressed at the base of his throat and rolls his hips up into Keith’s and that last one is just too much for him - for Keith - his mouth pulling away and breaths coming heavy but his gaze is flitting elsewhere - processing - thinking-

“Stop,” Lance orders, framing Keith’s face and tilting his own as he pulls him back down into another kiss, patient when it’s returned but then pulls away and those eyes are searching his and- “We’re fine…” he’s gotta reassure him - has to lead him back in because if Keith freaks out then Lance is gonna freak out and they’re  _ so close already-  _ “We’re good, man - just make out with me.”

It’s not the sexiest thing he’s ever said and he admits that, but it’s enough for Keith’s guard to ease off again. Maybe the familiarity of it. Maybe Lance’s tone. It smooths him back into the fold of things, his touch melting more and more until he’s finally ready for it, lap rocking down against Lance’s and spreading instant, pooling heat.

The groan that slips past Lance’s lips should be concealed - should be hidden away so it can’t be heard on the other line. But they’re past that now, and it’s glorious in its own weird, forbidden way.

But still they fall, Lance’s mouth dropping open at the slow drag of their hips. He can feel Keith’s cock through his sweatpants - already hard - wants to bounce on it but also doesn’t wanna give up the feeling of Keith sucking a hickey into the side of his neck.

“Fuck…” his eyes roll to the back of his head before shutting, so pleasantly enjoying the combination of it. “...need that…”

Keith hums - deep vibrations before breaking away to murmur into Lance’s neck. “...need what…”

“This.” He rocks his hips up, rubbing himself against Keith’s hardness and pulling a groan from both of them with the warm tingles it spreads. “...need it in me…”

Because grinding is fine. There’s nothing wrong with a little clothed, dry humping between friends but-... But  _ fuck. _

Lance is the first to get out of his joggers - coaxed, maybe, by how Keith’s body over his keeps him hidden - or coaxed by the anticipation of being that much closer to getting that dick. Step by step. Careful but picking up speed.

Keith’s less bold but isn’t that what Lance expected? Isn’t that how he’s always imagined their first time playing out? The hesitation to high intensity? Isn’t that-

“Turn over.” 

Lance would do it himself but he’s already got Keith’s hands grabbing at his waist, touching and turning him and  _ yeah,  _ that’s the kind of manhandling he was talking about.

The space in this apartment is tight but Lance is used to it, the flip getting him eye-level with the polaroids on the wall and his ass out in the open and he could so easily freak out right now if-

The click of a cap…

The squeeze…

Lance is already stretched from their call and didn’t even bother to clean up too much but Keith has to get ready. Which means his sweatpants are tugged down past his hips back there. And fuck, should Lance’s mouth really be watering just from imagining it?

“You don’t want me to blow you a little?”

It comes out as a joke and  _ is _ kind of a joke because Lance can never just let silence rest and all these polaroids in front of him aren’t helping the step-by-step and he...he could really very easily freak out right now, couldn’t he?

Because they’re gonna fuck, aren’t they?

Like for real. Not just in his brain. Not just on the phone.  _ For real. _

Lance’s pulse is so heavy he can hear it in his ears, his gaze dancing over the photos of the two of them taped to the wall.

Six Flags.

The terrible carnival that one summer.

The first day of second grade, backpacks slung over the tiny shoulders they press into each other as they wait for the bus and…

Oh god…

They’ve been friends for so long, haven’t they…

The bed creaks as Keith knees into position, hands once again pulling Lance up by the waist. And…

“Hang on,” he’s gotta do it - doesn’t know why but  _ fuck  _ he needs to. Needs to twist so he can see Keith over his shoulder. Needs to ground himself and reach a hand back, fingers in the back of his hair and pulling him in as he murmurs it. “Just-... Just kiss me real quick.”

It’s stupid and childish but Keith isn’t denying him, licking his lips before following through and pressing them to Lance’s and-...

...yes...

...good...

...okay...

When they break away, Keith’s looking at him, something Lance’s can’t put his finger on dancing around in those big pretty eyes and  _ ugh  _ okay yes this is definitely a good idea. They should definitely be fucking. He doesn’t need to freak out even a little bit, smirk curling as he keeps that eye-contact and says it.

“Okay… Now gimme that dick...”

And the rest is history, the bed sheets soft under him as he drops back down onto the mattress and feels those hands smooth over the small of his back - slide around to grab at his hips and pull him back and  _ oh... _ the sparks of heated anticipation when he feels the head of Keith’s cock nudging against his entrance.

“Don’t tease…” Lance’s eyes are already fluttered closed, hips rocking just a little, “...gimme it…”

And then Keith is sinking in, easy and full and  _ fuck - oh fuck oh fuck - _

His lips are at Lance’s ear, breath hot, “This what you wanted...?”

And holy  _ fuck  _ \- are you fucking kidding him - “Yes,” toes curled, body lit up, “Fuck yes - how’re you so-”

It’s punched out of his lungs because Keith starts to  _ move.  _ Starts to pull out and sink back in and Lance swears to god he’s seeing stars, pleasure points he didn’t even realize he had popping off everywhere in his body.

And jesus, he can’t help it - can’t help as he bounces his ass back onto Keith’s cock - speeds things up on a dime because he’s been waiting to be fucked like this for so long.

But Keith’s into it. Keith’s meeting him. Keith’s gripping his waist and snapping his hips and fucking him exactly how Lance imagined - exactly how he’s craved.

_ “Fuh-huck Keeeith…” _ It’s more of a whine and he should be embarrassed but he’s kind of blown way past that now, fingers tangled in the sheets and body pitching forward and-

“Fuck-” Keith’s hips are stopping, “F-... Hang on - hang on-” they’re pulling away and he’s pulling out and oh  _ god  _ he was gonna cum way too early, why is that the most endearing thing Lance has ever witnessed?

It’s okay. It’s totally fine. He can take over, breath coming quick as he turns, hands on Keith’s chest and pushing him down and okay yep, his cock is definitely as pretty as Lance was imagining. 

And Keith is so pretty under him too, lips parted and eyelids heavy and dropping closed as Lance climbs into his lap to sink down onto him.

It’s only been a few seconds but he missed it - how nice and full Keith’s cock keeps him. And he’s not gonna fuck himself but he’s gonna move… Gonna sway… Gonna grind on that dick as he reaches over to the nightstand for the joint and pulls a hit.

Keith watches like he’s taking in a piece of fine art, and that just gets Lance off more, the smoke trapped in his mouth as he beckons him up with a finger.

Keith listens. Comes up close. Wets his lips and parts them as Lance lets the smoke drift easily from his own mouth into his. 

Lance smirks, licking after it, teasing Keith’s tongue into a lazy play, all while swaying on his dick and getting that nice, tight grind.

It’s a break from the fast-and-heavy. Still hot - Lance swallowing Keith’s moans every time he grinds down particularly sweetly. And it only lasts a few moments, because then they’re moving again - hands grabbing - breaths hitching.

Lance comes down on his back, Keith following after him without breaking their gaze. And there’s just something  _ so hot _ about how he worries at his bottom lip as he lines himself up and then starts up that quick pace again.

Because this time, they’re facing each other. This time, there’s nowhere to hide, the other’s eyes taking in anything and everything that they please.

Lance can feel the heat working its way up his body, spreading at his chest. “This is just like...in that one movie where-”

He’d be insulted by the hand that comes to clamp over his mouth if it wasn’t turning him on so much.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at dirty talk…?” Keith deadpans, but it loses a lot of attitude with how he snaps his hips leaves him breathy.

And anyway, Lance is already moving - already looping a hand around Keith’s wrist so he can suck his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth because apparently that’s something he’s wanted to do very badly. 

They stiffen around his tongue, Keith playing along and starting a slow pump in and out - low-key compared to the pitch of his hips.

It gives Lance room to suck off with a wet pop, “Whatdaya want me to say?” grin gone dirty as he speaks against the pads of his fingers, “How good you feel inside me? How bad I been wanting your cock like this?”

Keith groans, eyes dropping closed as he leans into each pitch forward. It’s gotta be what he looked like tonight on the other end of their call - how he looked rutting against the body pillow that’s now tossed on the floor.

And if you think Lance isn’t gonna chase after every single one of those groans, you don’t know him at all.

“God you fuck me so good, Keith,” he grins, breathy as the hand at his mouth slips down to hold firmly at the base of his throat. “Wanted you to fuck me like this for so long…”

It’s working - stoking the fire - getting Keith to chase after it - to rock his hips up into him and  _ god Lance is getting close. _

“Want that cum…” he can’t even hear himself anymore, lost in the beauty of his best friend’s face as he rides toward that climax, “C’mon Keith don’t make me cum by myself…”

Because it’s mounting. 

“G-... Getting close…?” so breathy - so hot - such a fucking turn on, holy  _ shit. _

It’s all got a whine of a moan slipping from the back of his throat, “So close... ...gonna make me cum with that c- _ ohh Keith c’mon-” _

He’s so close. 

So fucking close - they both are.

Lance drops a hand to himself, barely getting in a few strokes before he’s tipping over, back arching off the mattress and into Keith and fuck fuck fuck he should cover his mouth but he’s never shut up a day in his life and Keith follows right after him, head dropping to bury his face in Lance’s neck as his hips stutter against him and  _ yes...he’s coming inside him...god in heaven he’s- _

He’s-...

Wow, Lance has a few Things he didn’t realize he was into, huh…?

The air is thick around them as they struggle to catch their breaths. But it’s not uncomfortable. Not the same kind of heavy as when Lance had first showed up. 

And…

Keith’s pupils are blown and beautiful when he finally lifts his head to look down at him. 

Blown and beautiful...and…

“Goddamn…” Lance can’t help the breathy chuckle, “You’re definitely-”

But Keith’s lips steal away the rest, no longer hungry and heated. Just…

Lance smiles against them, his chest filling up with a whole different kind of airy energy. 

Alright, that’s fine. He’ll shut up. 

For now.

Because for once in their lives, Keith’s filling in the silence. 

“That was-...” even if it’s being pieced together sweetly, “I’m glad we did that…”

It keeps that smile on Lance’s face. Has his arms flying out to wrap around Keith’s neck and pull him down into another kiss.

He won’t say it right this second, but yes.  Lance is glad too.  More than glad, if he's gonna be honest.

There's nowhere in the world he'd rather be right now than here, chasing after Keith for more kisses, until they're both collapsing into each other's safe, familiar laughter.

 

* * *


End file.
